The Past Is The Past
by TheDauntlessShadowhunter
Summary: The year is 2031, and Alfred Kirkland, a curious teenager, wants to learn more about the world. Specifically the year 2016, when the war ended and he was born, and finding who his real family is. Arthur Kirkland, proud father of a boy who isn't really his, is trying to protect Alfred from the past, while dealing with it himself.
1. Happy Birthday

The land was bleak and desolate. Barren, with spots of yellow, brittle grass, cans, trash, and the occasional plastic bag rolling like a tumbleweed. That's what happens when you fight with nuclear warfare. Nothing is ever the same.

The scene looks like something out of an apocalypse movie. The sky is gray and overcast, but no rain falls. Buildings are crumbling, falling apart brick by brick. A woman peeks out from one of the broken windows of these buildings, holding a crying baby.

She tries to calm her baby as she looks around for any signs of life. There's nothing... Just dead bodies on the ground. Quickly, she dashes from the building, holding the small infant to her chest. Nothing moves, there's no sound except her feet hitting packed dirt and then they stop. She has reached the next building.

She pauses and catches her breath, looking around again before running to the next dilapidated building. She does this repeatedly, slowly making her way across the open landscape, hopping over debris.

The baby cries more, sensing its mother's distress. This isn't any way a baby should be treated. But she has no choice at the moment. It takes hours before he sees the first signs of life. There's a fence, but no security.

People can come and go as they please. But people rarely ever go out this side of the fence. She runs up to the gate with her baby, no doubt being monitored by security cameras. She runs in through the open space and into town.

The buildings here were saved from the destruction. The landscape is still barren, but with tender care, green grass is attempting to grow. She keeps running though, even though it is safer here. The baby wails louder but the mother has no time to stop for food.

She slows to a walk when she arrives in the nicer part of this safe haven. The people with slightly more money and luck live here. Who could properly care for a child.

She hates the idea of doing this. Of leaving her child with a stranger that could very well kill the baby as accept it. She can only hope the baby will have a better life here. She sets the child swaddled in a blanket on a doormat. It stops crying and stares with big, hurt eyes. She knows this is a goodbye. She will never see her baby again. She bends over to kiss its forehead and the baby whimpers.

"I love you," she whispers, "Please never try to find me."

She stands up and the baby starts crying again. She knocks on the door then runs once more. She runs a few houses down and crouches behind a row of bushes. She just has to see if the child will be accepted or rejected.

A man opens the door. He has messy blonde hair and thick eyebrows, she notices. He looks down at the child and bends to carefully pick it up. She can tell her baby stops crying when the man holds it. She wipes a few tears away as the man readily accepts the child and turns to go back inside. She whispers a silent thank you then runs back down the street. She runs out of the town and out of the gate. She is one of the few to go this way. And she hopes to never come back.

* * *

It's just a few days short of 15 years since the day a child was left on a doorstep. The man had taken the child in, raised it, cared for it, taught it everything it knew. That man is Arthur Kirkland, proud father of a child who isn't his.

He named the baby Alfred, because it seemed to suit him and sounded dignified like his own name. Alfred was currently running around the lush backyard with his friends. They were laughing and pushing and daring. Alfred was knocked into the pool and went under mid laugh.

Arthur rolled his eyes in amusement as his son came up coughing water. His friends laughed and he splashed water at them as payback.

When he had found the baby, it only seemed to be a week old. So that's what he did. He gave Alfred the birthday of a week before their meeting. After he had taken him in, he moved them across the pond, where things were better.

He had his own terrors and scars from those days, but he'd rather not relive those memories if he could help it.

Here, in England, where he rightfully belonged, he raised the boy. He was very inquisitive, always asking about his mom and his history.

"I found you on my doorstep," Arthur would say and Alfred would sigh.

"Stop lying to me. I'm not six."

"I'm not lying. It's true," he would say. It took many years to get him to understand that that's all there really was to it.

Alfred made up stories about how he was from a different planet, like Krypton, so he was a superhero in training. And Arthur let him make up those stories to fill the void in his heart.

"Arthur, I brought the cake!" a French voice said behind him. Arthur was leaning against the island in the kitchen, watching the boys through the sliding glass doors. He turned now to look as Francis set a container down on the island and lifted the lid.

'Happy 15th Birthday Alfred' was inscribed in blue icing on the homemade cake. "Not too shabby looking," Arthur said and swiped his finger over the icing trim at the bottom, then putting the finger in his mouth. "Maybe a bit sweet."

"Don't touch the cake with your dirty fingers," Francis gasped and put the cover back on, "And it's not for you anyways."

Arthur laughed a little and rolled his eyes. "Alright. Make me my own cake then."

"When it is your birthday, I will make you a cake," Francis smiled. He leaned over and kissed Arthur, licking the bit of frosting from his bottom lip. Arthur blushed slightly and stepped back.

"I look forward to it," he said after a moment. Francis was his long- term 'boyfriend' as the kids put it, although he was actually his fiancé. They'd been together for over 6 years at this point and Francis was practically a second dad to Alfred. They were planning to get married this coming fall because Francis claimed Arthur was an 'Autumn', whatever the hell that meant, and would look great in the wedding pictures with the colorful leaves.

The doorbell rang and he looked over, "Must be the pizza."

"Or another baby," Francis teased as he often did. Arthur rolled his eyes at the old joke and went to the door. He paid, took the stack of pizza boxes in his hands, and set it down on the dining room table. Paper plates and napkins were already set out so he walked to the sliding doors and called out to them.

"Boys, the pizza is here!" They all looked up like hungry animals and stampeded inside to the dining room, "Please, use plates and napkins!"

"They're young boys, Mon cher. They don't have time for plates," Francis laughed as he watched, the ones that did use a plate stacking 3 or 4 pieces onto it.

"Let's just keep them out of the family room," Arthur said, practically having a heart attack just thinking about pizza stains on his white couch.

"I'm sure we can manage that," Francis said.

Arthur nodded and watched the boys inhale the greasy food. He couldn't believe it had been so long. Francis had helped a great deal, even if he annoyed him quite often. He kept Alfred busy while he was working in the home office.

After he had left with many other survivors to England, he had gotten a small apartment. Then, after a few months, he landed a job in a corporate building. He'd had to send Alfred to daycare and couldn't spend as much time with him as he would have liked. For the first 6 years of his life anyways. After he had saved enough money, they moved to the house they lived in now. He soon received a promotion and was now able to work less hours at his own home. Which in hindsight wasn't a very good idea. Alfred annoyed him endlessly. Vying for attention, making messes, the works.

This went on for 2 years, and then he met Francis, who when he introduced to Alfred, immediately wanted to be there for him. So while Arthur worked, Francis would keep him busy. He couldn't have been more grateful. Speaking of that, there was something he'd been meaning to ask the man.

"Francis, I have a proposal for you," Arthur started.

"But I already proposed," Francis joked, "remember?"

"Yes, I very well do," he said and his face heated up at the memory, "I just meant, well, since we're getting married soon, and you spend so much time here, that it would be... uh, rather nice if you moved in?"

He felt nervous asking about this. He didn't know why, they would have to live together at some point if they would be married.

Francis smiled. "I was beginning to think that you would never ask."

"Sod off," Arthur said and elbowed him in the side.

Francis laughed and elbowed him back, which cause Arthur to do again and it quickly turned into them kissing. Don't ask him how, but this always happened.

"Ugh, dad, gross," Alfred said with pizza stuffed in his mouth.

"Don't speak with food in your mouth," Arthur said, his face flushed, as he stepped back.

"Don't talk with another tongue in your mouth," Alfred said and went back outside with his friends.

Francis laughed. "He got you there."

"Little nuisance," Arthur muttered.

"Little? He's as tall as you," Francis said.

"Shove it," Arthur rolled his eyes and went to put the empty pizza boxes near the trash, to be taken out later, "my stature has nothing to do with anything else proportionally wise on me."

"Ah, that's true," Francis grinned and winked.

"Don't you have something to do other than bother me?"

"I could do you," Francis said and grabbed Arthur's hand, making him stumble into him.

Arthur's face turned a light shade of red. "Um, other than that..."

"Nothing I have planned," Francis smiled and twined their fingers together.

"Very well," Arthur gave an exaggerated sigh and pressed close to Francis, kissing him lightly on to the lips, "but for now we should really be making sure no one gets hurt."

Francis smiled and nodded. "I know how rough boys can be," he laughed and squeezed Arthur's ass.

"Why you-!" He didn't even get to finish his sentence as Francis walked outside with a flourish. That damned Frog. Sometimes he wanted to get rid of him. But, he knew he loved the man more than he could ever hate him. And that's why he trusted Francis with his life.

The day went off without a hitch- almost. They ate cake and ice cream, played video games, and acted like regular teenage boys.

Then, near the time the last few people were leaving, Alfred decided to something stupid.

Arthur didn't so much see it as hear it. The "vroom" of an engine, loud laughing, and then the engine revving as it faded away. Then the tires squealed against the road to stop. He never heard the sick thud, but he could certainly imagine it as he ran over to investigate the incident.

"What happened?" he asked one of the two boys, glaring death at them.

One looked at the ground defiantly while the other squirmed under his gaze and broke. "We saw this thing on TV where the guy hung onto the back of the car as someone drove and he fell off and it was hilarious. And then Al wanted to try it, saying that he totally wouldn't fall off. So we were like, yeah, sounds sweet. So we did it and he kinda fell off..."

"I'm fine! Totally fine," Alfred said as he shakily stood with the ever- present grin.

"You idiots," Arthur sighed and looked over his son. His knees and elbows were scraped and his nose was bleeding. "Where are your glasses?"

"Uh..." Alfred felt his face in a mild panic and scanned over the ground, "right there!" He said and stepped over to grab them but he misjudged the distance and stepped on them, the frame crunching beneath his feet. "Oh shit..."

"Shit is right," Arthur sighed and Alfred bent to pick up the pieces. He turned to the other two, "You boys best be getting home before I tell your parents what you did. Honestly, endangering a person's life from something you saw on TV." He shook his head.

They nodded and got in the car, driving away. He grabbed Alfred's wrist and led him out of the street and down the block. "I thought I raised you better."

"Guess you didn't," Alfred said cheekily.

"Use that tone with me again and I'll make you pay for your new glasses."

"Sorry," Alfred muttered.

"Apology accepted. We'll go in the morning to see what we can do, now go get washed up for bed."

"Okay," Alfred said and dashed inside.

* * *

 **Hello dear readers! I'm back with a new multi-chapter, just as promised! Yes, it's another FACE family (minus Matthew), because I can't get enough of them! This story is set in the year 2031 and it's a post war setting, which you will find out the war next chapter. The view points are from Arthur (lots of backstory from him) and Alfred, although I may throw another person in at some point. There is a plot, but it doesn't really start until next chapter, so please stick around for it! This was just character development, I swear.**

 **On a side note, finals for me are in 2 weeks and then it's summer, so I'm definitely not going to say I'll update on a certain day because I'll most likely break it. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this!**


	2. The Nuclear War

"Can I get these ones?" Alfred asked, trying on new frames that looked almost exactly like the old ones he'd broken, "I really like these."

"Are you sure you don't want to try something different?" Arthur asked, his eyes scanning around the eyeglass store at the various glasses on display. He had to bring Alfred to get new glasses because the little idiot decided to try something stupid yesterday. Arthur supposed he should make Alfred to pay for these, but money was always burning a hole in his pocket, as the saying goes, so he didn't have any to spend on new glasses for himself. And Arthur would be a bad parent if he let his kid be half blind for months.

"These _are_ different," Alfred said, taking them off and walking over.

"Alright," Arthur said and walked over to the lady behind the desk. She took them and put them in a file case with his name on it, saying the frames would be ready in a few days.

"Do you have your old glasses?" Arthur asked his son.

"No, they broke a while ago," he said, looking sheepish.

"Of course they did," he sighed and told the lady to order two pairs, "I guess you'll be without glasses for a few days."

"Crap," Alfred said and blinked blindly at him.

"Maybe then you'll think twice about doing something you see on TV."

"Yeah, yeah," Alfred said and rolled his eyes, which he knew annoyed his dad.

"Come on, don't trip over anything," Arthur said.

"I'm not completely blind!" Alfred said and walked out without hitting anything. Arthur laughed softly and followed the energetic boy outside.

* * *

The Nuclear War, also called Cold War ||, was between the United States and Russia from 2015 to 2016. The war also included other countries as well but the United States and Russia were the main superpowers. Tensions between the two countries had been high for years because of the potential threat of nuclear weapons.

In September, 2014, Ukraine's National Security and Defense Council hosted multinational exercises with the United States, NATO, and other nations. This was in hope that Russian troops would move off of Ukraine's borders so a war would not be necessary. However, Russian troops did not move, and on February 26, 2015, after months of useless negotiating, Ukraine declared war on Russia. Being part of NATO, Ukraine had all of the countries part of the organization on their side. As Russia has close relations with China, they did not declare war, but supplied Russia with supplies and weapons.

The United States stayed out of it until England declared war against Russia and countries part of NATO supplied and helped Ukraine. It wasn't until May 17, 2015 that the United States declared war and advanced against Russia, 3 months into the war.

The Russian army was better trained, large, and more well- armed than in the past. At this point, Ukraine, England, and America were in war against Russia.

This could have easily become World War 3 but the nations discussed at earlier NATO and EU meetings that no one wanted another World War because it could potentially destroy the world. Allies of those currently in war and the countries in war created the Neutral Pact, stating that countries currently not in the war could not supply fighting countries or enter the war, making them neutral. China was forced to sign this and was cut off from supplying Russia. Russia, angry about this, was forced to sign the pact as well.

The war raged for over a year after America entered, but Russia was quickly being pushed back and losing. There was meetings to discuss a treaty and stop the war, but Russia would not agree to the terms and refused to surrender. The United States threatened to use Nuclear Warfare to end the war in December, but Russia still did not back down.

Just one month later, on January 28, 2016, after many troops were being lost to the Russian winter, the United States dropped a Nuclear bomb over Moscow, killing over 200,000 civilians and injuring another 300,000 more. This devastated Russia but instead of surrendering, they retaliated. They dropped two nuclear bombs over Ukraine in Kyiv and Dnepropetrovsk, which were strategic locations, as well as three more in the United States over a period of days.

The bombs exploded in New York City on February 4, Los Angeles on on February 7, and Washington D.C on February 13. The targeted cities were many of the biggest and most important. Luckily, the President was not at the White House at the time of the bombings, or he would have surely died from flying shrapnel. The Vice President and Secretary of the state though, were killed, along with hundreds of thousands of other people. The explosion point in D.C. set the White House on fire, but it was able to be put out before it burned about a fourth of the building. People fled the cities, looking for cover in smaller cities and towns, away from the threat and devastation.

The United States told Russia that they would fight nuclear with nuclear, which may just wipe out the world population to extinction or near extinction, with the effects lasting for years. Neither of them wanted that to happen, so all four countries called an armistice on February 22. There were more months of negotiations and the nations signed peace treaties on July 10, 2016, officially ending the war.

Three countries sustained billions in damage and millions of lives lost or crucially injured. England only lost those in fighting troops, as the war was not fought in their country and Russia did not drop any Nuclear bombs on them.

The devastation pulled the United States into another economic depression, this time not taking the world with it. They are now starting to recover as of recently. Russia is rebuilding their capital, as is Ukraine.

Due to the amount of chemicals released in the Nuclear bombs, parts of the United States are uninhabitable still. The Capital was moved to Denver. Russia and Ukraine had moved capitals as well.

As of 2030, 14 years after the end of the war, D.C. was beginning to show signs of life. The white house and the surrounding city are finishing being reconstructed as the economy is stabilizing. It may take another 20 years for America to get back as a top economy, as long as the treaties are kept unbroken.

* * *

Alfred stared at his laptop as he read the information, taking it in, digesting it all.

"Dinner is ready," Arthur spoke from the door.

"Dad, look at this," he said and moved the laptop to face him. He moved his fingers up to his nose to push his glasses up on reflex, then remembered they weren't there and let his hand fall. "This happened before I was born. Do you remember it?"

Arthur leaned over to look at the screen. He tensed and paused for a long moment before slowly saying, "I do."

"What was it like?"

"Oh, it was... terrible. It... It was so bad..." he said and let out a breath he held, "dinner is ready. Go eat before it gets cold."

"Food!" Alfred gasped and ran out to the dining room, forgetting about his questions on his quest for nourishment.

At least until after dinner. He looked more up on his laptop, curious as to why his dad was so guarded about it. He lived in England his whole life. And England had been left untouched, so why was he so guarded? It really confused him.

He also thought more about how he was found on the doorstep, right before the war was officially ended, and just who his mother could be. He'd always wondered that, because he didn't remember her. But now he was thinking there was more to it. Maybe she fought for England and died from radiation. Maybe she was too poor to keep him. Maybe... She just didn't want him. He didn't want to believe that, but the possibilities were endless.

His thoughts now turned to all of the destruction that was shown on the news. This week it was 15 years since the end of the war, and most of the cities were rebuilt or in the process of. He knew Moscow was becoming a busy city again, and Ukraine was back on its feet as well. He can't believe all of this happened around the time he was born. He was born just a a week before the end of the war. What were the odds.

He had a sudden idea and looked up birth records in England from June to July of 2016. Hospitals and ancestry sites usually kept these safe, but ever since the population had declined all those years ago and bodies had to be identified, they released the documents online to the public. In some countries anyway. One of the countries he knew was England, where he was born, so he looked it up.

It was easy to find these things now, since if a baby wasn't even born at a hospital, within a week the birth records would be up due to necessary check ups of the baby.

He looked his name up, and wondered if that was his real name, since no matches came up, except for a few older guys. He tried his dad's last name, and found a whole bunch of results for Kirkland. He found his dad but nothing about himself. Weird.

He stood up from his bed and carried the laptop out to his dad, who was in the living room, on the couch. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering... why don't I have any birth records?"

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, avoiding his eyes and watching a commercial on the TV.

"I mean that I looked it up and I found you, and my uncles, and a whole bunch of Kirklands, but not me."

"That is odd," Arthur said dismissively.

"Was I born in another country?" he asked.

"What? No, you were born here," Arthur said with a sharp look.

"Then why-?"

"Alfred. I don't know why it's not there. It may just be a glitch in the system."

He paused and gripped the laptop, confused and frustrated. "Is Alfred even my real name?"

"Of course it is."

"Was there a note saying my name when you found me?"

Arthur sighed. "No. But you were about a week old so I gave you a name. I don't know if your mother named you at all."

He listened and swallowed thickly, believing now that she didn't care enough to name him. Or maybe she knew she had to give him up, so she left it up to the caretaker. Either way, he still didn't exist in England.

"Was I born here?" he asked again.

"How should I know? Your mother could have brought you over on a plane," Arthur snapped irritably, "now, please stop talking about it. It only wastes my time."

"You're just watching TV!" Alfred defended himself.

"I'm watching an episode on how to make a mouthy teenager shut up for once in his life and realize I don't have the fucking answer for everything," he said, sounding like black ice on a road.

Alfred sighed and turned to go back to his room. So much for answers.

Like always, his dad avoided his questions. He just wanted to know who he really was.

Where he was from. Did he have any blood relatives, brothers, or sisters? The answers eluded him and he knew he had to find his mom somehow, if he wanted to know.

But who was she?

* * *

 **Short chapter is short. There's a piece of the plot in here which is the Nuclear War. Isn't that exciting! A whole lot of research and math went into this, especially the article part. And this isn't a real war, but was a plausible war. Just look up Russian troops on Ukraine borders, and you'll get all the info you want. So, sorry if there are any odd dates or plot holes, I did my best. And this is just one plot out of three, that connect together. They will come in later chapters. Also, pay close attention to Arthur and his actions surrounding the war and Alfred's birth place. Why is he keeping things from Alfred? What exactly is he keeping from Alfred? So many questions that may just be answered soon!**

 **As always, I hope you enjoy and if you loved it enough, please drop a review, because even a few words really make my day :)**

 **Lastly, to anon reviewer Ali6132: I really do feel special that this is the first Hetalia fic you read! I'll try not to disappoint! And good luck because there's no way out now. I suggest you check out rexlover180 because they're an amazing writer.**


	3. Some Secrets

"Alfred won't stop asking questions."

"Maybe you should just tell him," Francis suggested later that same day.

"I've told him everything I know, which isn't much," Arthur said.

"Everything? Even about you-"

"No. He doesn't need to know any of that."

"He's old enough now," Francis argued.

"He's not. I'll decide when he's old enough to know."

"If he really wanted to know, he could find out."

"But he doesn't want to know about my life. He wants to know about his life and family and I really don't know who his mother was to tell him anything. It's not a lie."

"You haven't told him that he was born in America," Francis said.

"I know... I just don't want him to go searching," Arthur said, "and obviously his mother didn't either."

"Every child has a right to know who their parents are."

"I'm his parent!" Arthur said.

"Adoptive parent," Francis reminded him. Arthur rubbed his temples in frustration. He just couldn't bring himself to tell Alfred exactly what happened... Yet. At least, he told himself he would one day. Just not any day soon. It was for his own sake, really.

"I don't care about the technicalities. I'm his parent, and I'll do what is best for him."

"After we get married, I'm adopting him, you know. We discussed this," Francis pointed out, "and then we will sit together and tell our son the whole truth."

"Alright," Arthur gave in grudgingly, getting up from his spot on the couch, "you do as you wish. But right now, I need a cuppa."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to all these English terms," Francis said, for a change of subject.

"Well, you better get used to it, because I'm sure as hell not moving to France."

"You don't want to live in the county of love?" Francis asked dramatically, resting the back of his hand on his forehead.

"You're all the French I can handle at once," Arthur smiled weakly at his theatrics.

"As long as it's only me you're handling," Francis said, his voice getting lower and more seductive the closer he got.

Arthur quickly set the kettle on the stove and turned it on to boil. He knew what was coming as he felt the heat of Francis' body behind him.

"Of course," he spoke, having to clear his throat and say it again, "Of course,"

Arthur turned around and on cue, Francis pressed flush against him, pushing him back against the counter, capturing his lips.

Francis slid his hands over his body, under his shirt, his cool hands against Arthur's hot skin, making him shiver.

"Can you guys seriously not? Like, gross, get a room," Alfred interrupted, opening the fridge.

Arthur pushed Francis off of him and straightened out his shirt. "Maybe you should have just stayed in your room."

"But all the entertainment is out here," Alfred said, grabbing a coke and Arthur rolled his eyes. Alfred closed the fridge with his foot as he opened the can. "What's for dinner?"

"I was thinking we could go out to eat," Francis said.

"You were?" Arthur asked, the kettle letting out a whistle. He moved to take it off the burner, thinking about how Francis hadn't said anything like that to him.

"Really? Cool! Where?" Alfred asked.

"Wait," Arthur stopped them and looked at Francis, "why do you want to go out?"

"Why not?" Francis countered, "sometimes it's nice not to slave over a hot stove and just let someone else do the job."

"So you're being lazy," Alfred smirked from behind his coke can.

"Quiet you," Francis rolled his eyes, "I'm not being lazy at all."

"I could cook," Arthur offered, pouring the hot water into a cup and preparing his cup of tea.

"NO!" Alfred and Francis said in unison. Then they looked at each other and cracked up.

Arthur sighed. "Honestly, I don't burn everything."

"You burned my cereal once," Alfred said.

"That was a dream you had," Arthur reminded him.

"But dreams can be real," Alfred countered and laughed.

Arthur sighed and picked up his perfect cup of tea. Where did he go wrong raising this kid?

"I think the answer to all of this is a nice dinner out," Francis said before Arthur got too worked up.

"Alright. Let me finish this," he said, taking a sip, "Alfred, go put on a nicer shirt."

"What's wrong with this one?" Alfred whined.

"It has a skull and blood on it, which is inappropriate. Where did you ever get that?"

"I dunno," he shrugged, "but it looks really cool, doesn't it?"

"It would look 'cooler' if you changed your shirt," Arthur said.

"Fine," Alfred sighed and went back to his room.

"And you," Arthur said, turning his gaze to his partner and setting his tea down.

"Moi?" Francis asked.

"Yes. Come finish what you started," he grinned and kissed him, catching the man by surprise.

Arthur had the advantage this time, pressing him against the counter. He ran his fingers over the strip of exposed skin where Francis' shirt rose above his pants. Just the way he liked it. Francis shivered and slid his fingers through Arthur's hair. He was enjoying every last second of it, but it was over just as suddenly as it had started. Arthur let go of him and stepped back, fixing his always messy hair.

"Oh Arthur, you never cease to tease me," Francis smiled, "which just means we will really have to finish this tonight."

Arthur grinned and picked back up his tea. "That we will,"

"Is this better?" Alfred asked, coming out in a green and blue striped shirt that said 'I got ninja skillz'

Arthur visibly cringed. "Other than the terrible grammar, I suppose it will work."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Nothing pleases you."

"Lots of things please me," he defended himself then realized what he had said too late.

"Like moi," Francis grinned and wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

"Only occasionally," Arthur said, quickly sipping on his tea before Francis started anything. He wouldn't let Francis have the upper hand. It was still his turn.

* * *

"I would like the hamburger deluxe. Pickles on the side," Alfred ordered and handed the menu to the young waitress with a wink. She smiled and wrote it down before walking away with the orders.

"He's been around you too much," his dad sighed to Francis over his cup of tea, which Alfred thought he didn't need since he'd already had that stuff at home.

"Is that a bad thing?" Francis smiled.

"Yes. He just winked at the waitress," his dad explained.

"I'm not allowed to wink?" he asked.

"Not at her," his dad said.

"Oh Arthur leave him be. He's just being a teenager," Francis said.

"Yea," Alfred agreed, "don't be so stuffy."

"I'm not stuffy," his dad said and rolled his eyes, "I'm just a gentleman. Unlike you two."

"You wound me," Francis said and put a hand to his heart.

"Shots fired," Alfred said and laughed.

"Why do I put up with you two?" Arthur asked.

"Because you love us," Alfred answered.

"It was a rhetorical question," his dad said and Alfred grinned.

"I know," he said. He drank some of his coke from the glass and stood up, "gotta pee." Arthur sighed and didn't even try to reprimand him this time.

Alfred walked to the restrooms, and went in. He used the bathroom, washed his hands, and then attempted to get that damn cowlick to stay down once more. It was useless, as usual. He looked in the mirror for a moment and thought about how blue his eyes were. How they were a pure, deep blue, and how he'd never seen anyone else with these kind of eyes.

He was almost certain that one of his parents would have the same eyes as him. Maybe if he found out a way to look up eye color... but how would he even do that? He sighed as his thoughts hit a dead end, like always, and he left the restroom.

It was incredibly frustrating to not know who you are. Would he have been a different person if he'd been raised with his real parents? Would he have had a brother, or a sister? Maybe even a dog or a goldfish? He would have different friends, maybe even a girlfriend.

He made his way back to the table and stared off at the wall, thinking of everything that could be different. It was sure a lot.

But then again, maybe he didn't want things to be different. Things could definitely be worse. His dad gave him a good life. He had everything he wanted. And who's to say his own mother would have treated him any better? She did leave him on a doorstep, after all.

It's not like he resented his mom, although sometimes he did. Sometimes he was glad she got rid of him, so he wouldn't be burdening her. But at the same time, she just placed her burden on someone else. Thankfully that someone actually took him in and didn't leave him to die.

"Alfred," his dad cut in sharply, "elbows off the table."

"Yeah, sorry," he said absently and moved his arms down. What was he thinking? Oh, yeah. He was grateful for his dad taking care of him and loving him. He didn't know how he'd ever repay him. But if taking his elbows off the table was one step closer, then he wouldn't argue.

The food arrived and he let go of his thoughts to focus on the beautiful burger in front of him. He dug in and caught his dad looking at him in that usual 'you eat like a pig, but you weren't raised in a barn' look. He swallowed what was in his mouth before taking a smaller bite, which his dad approved of.

After dinner, he scrawled his number on the back of the bill for the waitress when his dad wasn't looking. Francis saw it and gave him an approving look. He grinned and sat back innocently before his dad saw. Neither one of them said anything to Arthur about what just transpired.

Alfred thought that it was kind of odd how different his dad and Francis were. But as the saying goes, opposites attract, he guessed.

The waitress came to pick up the bill, saw the number on the back with his name, and blushed slightly. He grinned and mouthed "call me" before she walked off with it. He totally just scored a potential hot date. Now that he was 15, things he did weren't going to be called cute or adorable any longer. No, now he was a young man, who was hot and sexy. He was going to grow a beard, drive a car, play in the NFL. He was going to... find his parents. And nothing was going to stop him.

* * *

Hey all! So, sorry this is a bit late and all... finals are this week and I didn't have time. But here it is! Basically just filler and fluff, so sorry. But plot #2 starts next chapter. Be prepared! I hope you enjoy and the next will be out sooner, I promise. (I shouldn't ever promise anything). Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!


	4. Newscast and a Letter

The next day, he was stretched out on the couch with his dad, watching the news. This week the stations were doing a special on the Nuclear War, which had always interested Alfred, as it had ended a week after his birthday.

As the News lady was saying, Washington D.C. was fully operational again. The white house and the rest of the city had been restored, and it was safe to live there. People were slowly moving back, while the President and Vice- President were there already, working on stimulating the economy even more.

They showed images of the destruction as well, comparing it. Some were ground images of buildings blown apart. Open, nuke blasted land. Others were taken by air, and showed the dark marks of impact zones, where the bombs exploded over the city. Buildings were flattened and you could see for miles and miles just rubble and occasionally even corpses. People stuck under collapsed houses, caught in a fire, thrown into the air at the force of the blast and breaking their neck. The destruction was beautiful and terrible at the same time, in Alfred's eyes.

But then he glanced at his dad who was busy with sewing an article of clothing together. He looked unfocused and tense, his hands shaking ever so slightly. He wondered why this was affecting his dad so much. Did he know people that had died in America? Family, friends, or was it just that he felt for them? Alfred had no way of knowing until his dad opened up. And it didn't look like that was going to happen anytime soon.

He sat back and continued watching the news story. The lady was standing on a street corner. Few cars drove on the street behind her, and ever fewer people walked. She stopped a person and asked for an interview.

"What is your name, sir?" she asked, practically shoving the mic in his face.

The boy looked startled and stared wide eyed at the camera, obviously not prepared for a live coverage feed. It took Alfred's mind a few seconds to click before he realized something. That boy on the screen looked EXACTLY like him. Well, not exactly, but pretty damn close. Same blond hair and those eyes... they weren't blue, but violet. Yet they were such an intense violet he couldn't help but think how similar they could look to his own.

"M-Matthew Williams," he stated, gripping onto a small stuffed polar bear in his hands.

"MATTHEW!" he yelled suddenly, startling the man beside him.

"What are you going on about?" his dad asked crossly.

"Shhh!" Alfred said and waved his arm, staring at the screen.

"You look like you were born at the time of the end of the war, is that right?" The lady continued, shoving her mic close to his mouth because of how softly his voice came through.

"Um, yes... I was born about a week before. But I'm not exactly sure..." Matthew said.

Alfred did a little calculating in his head before he realized Matthew had to have been born at the same time as himself.

"He was born around the time I was! It's like we're twins!" he said aloud.

"Fun coincidences," Arthur said, sounding bored and trying to sew again. But Alfred ignored him and stared at the TV.

"Did any of your family tell you about what happened? A first person account of it all?" the lady asked.

"No... I don't have any family," Matthew said and cast his eyes down, "I live in a group home."

"My apologies," the lady said, ever slightly frowning, but never breaking that camera smile, "is there anything you'd like to say to the public?"

"Um..." he paused and slowly looked up, hope in his violet eyes, "if any of my family is out there... please come get me. I don't care what happened, I'll love you as family no matter if you're my brother or my dad or my step aunt twice removed. And, um... yeah." He quieted at the end and looked down.

The news lady looked a little surprised but quickly smoothed it with a smile. "Well, Matthew, thank you for your time and input," she said. He nodded shyly and walked off. She turned to fully face the camera. "This is just a small bite on all of the interesting things happening here in America. We'll be back right after these messages."

The screen changed from her to a commercial and he couldn't do anything but stare at it blankly. Matthew Williams... a boy across the pond who looked just like himself. But no, it was impossible. Yet, for some reason, he had to go look this kid up.

He quickly stood and ran to his room, grabbing his laptop. He flung open the lid, and typed the password so quickly, he messed up and had to type it again. He opened the browser and clicked onto American birth records. He thought that if he was in a boys home in America then he would have been born there. He searched up the name, scrolled through, and found who he was looking for.

Name: Matthew Williams  
Sex: Male  
Birthday: July 3rd, 2016

Alfred paused there. That was the day of his own birthday! Well, what he thought was his own birthday. But this couldn't just be some coincidence! He kept looking at the page.

Hair color: blonde  
Eye color: blue/ violet  
Mother: Ayiana Jones (deceased)  
Father: unknown

He froze again here. The boy's Mom was dead... and if his theory that they were twins was real then... that was his mom! But... his mom was dead. When did she die? After he was born? Recently? Hope built inside him, even though his mother was potentially dead. He clicked on her name and her own page loaded.

Name: Ayiana Jones  
Sex: Female  
Birthday: August 15, 1992  
Hair color: brown  
Eye color: blue  
Mother: Mika Moore (deceased)  
Father: Dean Jones (deceased)  
Offspring: Matthew Williams  
Other N/A

Wait. Two children, but only one name? What was this? How were the names not known? Things like this just didn't happen. He clicked on the links. Both of their parents were deceased and when he clicked on them it said they were both an only child. It didn't say that any kids were dead, but there just weren't any names. It was so weird...

So if this really was his mother, then Matthew could be his sibling. Their only family would be each other. Which would mean Alfred had to be the one to save him. But how would he go about doing that? He was only 15, what could he possibly do?

Well, for starters, he could look Matthew up on some social media sites. It took him a few minutes of scrolling through names before realized Matthew didn't have anything. That's right, he was in a boys home... which after a few minutes Alfred realized most likely meant orphanage.

He sat there and wondered how he would get a message to him. And then it hit him.

A letter. It was old fashioned, but sometimes people sent cards for birthdays, or postcards. But even when he was younger, tangible mail wasn't all that important. Mail had been slowly dwindling in paper form, and turned to electronic. It saved paper, so it made all the tree-huggers happy, it was much more efficient, and it practically couldn't be lost or stolen, unless by a really good hacker. The only draw back was the postal service workers were pretty much out of a job, so unemployment rates went up in parts of the world for a short time.

But that didn't matter right now because as long as the letter got to his this kid, he would be content. He looked up and quite easily found where the home where Matthew was living. He rummaged around for a piece of paper and a pen.

 _Dear Matthew,_ he wrote in careful writing. He paused and lifted his hand. What should he say next. "I'm Alfred, potentially your long- lost twin brother'?" No, that would scare him or make him think the sender was joking. He would have to start small and go big. Like saying that he saw him on the news and thought that it couldn't be a coincidence how similar they looked. And how he didn't have any biological family either.

He wrote down all of that and more, hoping he wasn't making a mistake. Hoping that he was his real brother. He signed the letter with his name, Alfred F. Kirkland. The 'F' stood for 'Foster' because his dad thought he was oh-so clever.

He folded the letter up, and went to find an envelope. He knew his dad kept some in his office. But he also knew he technically wasn't allowed in there because it was a "private room". So he walked quietly down the hall and slowly opened the closed door to sneak in.

"What would you like, Alfred?" his dad asked, not facing him, but hunched over some papers at a desk.

He cringed. Shit. Of course his dad decided that now would be a great time to work. "Uh, I need an envelope."

"An envelope. What for?" Those inquisitive green eyes landed on him and he subconsciously stepped back.

"To send a letter," he said and waved the folded paper in the air for emphasis.

"To who? Can't you just message this person over one of your many sites or apps?"

"Um... it's an exchange student that came to school last year. Yeah, from India. His name is... Sadiq and... he doesn't have internet connection." Wow, that was a racist name.

"Well, alright. I suppose you'll need a stamp as well," his dad said, easily buying into the lie. Alfred was honestly surprised at this but tried not to show it.

Arthur opened a drawer and produced a white envelope and a stamp. He handed them over to Alfred who took them a little shakily. "Thanks, Dad."

"No problem," his dad said, "now do you know how to write the addresses?"

"I can look it up. See ya," he said and hurried out.

He quickly walked back to his room. That was almost too easy, he thought, and sat back down at his laptop. He looked up how to write the addresses and neatly wrote them on the back of the envelope, then stuck the stamp in the corner. He put the paper inside then licked the edges. Now he was all ready mail this thing. He knew it would probably take a few weeks to get a response, if any. But he could wait.

Alfred grabbed a jacket and yelled "I'll be back soon!" to his dad, then ran out. He walked up to one of the few mail boxes left in the city and hesitated before he deposited the letter in. This could be a life changing thing. He took a breath and dropped the letter in the box. Now it was out of his hands. Literally.

He hoped the people that took care of Matthew would let him read the letter and respond to it. If he didn't get a letter back he would just keep writing and writing until he had to go to America himself.

* * *

The door opened again and Arthur sighed, "What is it now, Alfred?"

"You don't sound very happy," a foreign accented voice spoke. The door closed and Arthur looked up, putting on a withering smile.

"I'm alright. Just busy."

"Has Alfred been bothering you?" Francis said and stepped over to him.

"Not really. He came in for an envelope, but I haven't heard from him since," He shrugged and looked back down at the papers scattered about the desk.

"Is he sending a letter?" Francis asked.

"Yeah, to some exchange student or something," Arthur said.

"That's nice," Francis said and warm hands set on his shoulders. A light kiss was placed on his cheek then the hands started working the knots out of his back.

"You've been so stressed lately," Francis commented as he worked out the knots.

"I know," Arthur said, coming loose under his touch.

"I'm going to start moving some things in tomorrow, if that's all right," Francis said.

"Of course," Arthur said and smiled.

"I don't want you to stress over that, either, okay?"

"If I mustn't," Arthur said and small moan escaped his lips when Francis pressed on a certain spot, "Ah, yes, right there."

"Here?" Francis asked and continued kneading his back in that certain spot.

"Yes. God, Francis, your hands feel so good."

"I can make them feel good somewhere else, too," Francis smirked slyly.

"O-Oh. Please do," Arthur said, blushing slightly. He thought Francis was just going to do something about it later, but he was completely wrong. The man turned him around in the swivel chair and kissed him roughly, the hands leaving his back for his neck, fingers pushing up greedily into his hair.

Arthur was slightly surprised so Francis took the advantage of slipping his tongue in Arthur's mouth and taking control of the kiss. They parted for air after a minute and Francis made him stand, then promptly pushed him up against the desk.

"I-In here?" Arthur breathed, face pink.

"Why not?" Francis said and nuzzled his neck, sucking and licking the sensitive skin there.

Arthur could only respond with a gasp. He hoped Alfred wouldn't come barging in, because this was going to get hot real fast.

* * *

Arthur straightened out his shirt as he walked out of the office. Francis, goddamn him, had gotten his way. And now his shirt was all wrinkled from being thrown off. He could have been a bit more careful. But hindsight, they were always careless with clothes when in the mood. Oh well, nobody would care much anyways.

He went to go to his room and found Francis there, on the covers, studying a book.

"Moving in early?" he asked with a small smirk.

"You know I'm not one to fuck and leave," Francis smiled and patted the spot next to him.

Arthur sat down close to him and leaned against the headboard. "What are you reading?"

"A brief history of Great Britain," Francis said, showing him the cover, "and I have to say, it's not that great."

"Bugger off," Arthur said and rolled his eyes.

Francis laughed, "I'm being serious."

"As am I," Arthur said, but couldn't help from smiling.

Francis closed the book in his lap and leaned against him. "I'm going to enjoy finally living with you. And being married to you."

"You're such a sap," Arthur said, putting up his stoic façade.

"I know," Francis said and kissed him quickly, "I just wanted you to know what I was thinking."

"Well, I want you to know something," Arthur said.

"And what is that?"

"I love you, Frog," Arthur said and let a smile surface, kissing him.

"I love you too," Francis said after they parted. Arthur grinned and they kissed again, abandoning the book and all other thoughts.

* * *

 **So how was that for a plot twist? No? Okay. But I still think I surprised a few. Matthew is a precious cinnamon roll and I would never leave him out of this messed up family. Oh and I've never been on a genealogy site so I have no idea of the information and layout. I took a shot in the dark. Sue me.**

 **Also, this is rated T so unfortunately there won't be any explicit scenes between them (although I have a one shot of them in the works..)**

 **Enough of my rambling, if you enjoyed, you know what you might want to do (hint hint nudge nudge). Have a great day!**


	5. Emotions

"I think we should get a new couch."

"What? Why?" Arthur asked the next afternoon, putting a protective hand on the couch he had worked his ass off to get when he moved to this house.

"It's old," Francis replied.

"So? Old things are great. Antiques, cars. It's priceless sentimentality," he defended his couch.

"New things are just as great. First impressions, losing your virginity, newborns."

"Did that honestly just come out of your mouth?"

Francis winked. "Oui. And you know it's true."

"Out of everything new, _that's_ what you chose to say?" Arthur asked in exasperation.

"Oui," he repeated himself, "So we were talking about a new couch?"

"Yes, and that we don't need one."

"We do," Francis said determinedly.

"It's perfectly usable. And what's with all of this 'we' nonsense?"

"We are living together now, non? So decisions are not just you or me, it's we," Francis explained with the extensive use of his hands.

"I'm having second thoughts about this," Arthur said, but didn't really mean it.

"You know you can't live without me. Besides, you asked."

"Bloody Frog," Arthur sighed, "Fine. Because I must love you so much, we can go look for a new couch."

"Perfect," Francis smiled, "We can go today."

"Alright," Arthur complied and sat back on his beloved couch for what he hoped wasn't the last time.

"How about this one?" Alfred asked, bouncing on an overstuffed couch.

"Get off that before you break it," Arthur said and yanked the boy up, "And no."

"Aw, C'mon dad. It's really cool."

"Why did I even bring you along?"

"For my opinion. Can't let you get something too cheap."

"He has a point," Francis said.

"I am not cheap," Arthur said and rolled his eyes, "this couch is just overly expensive."

"Cheap, Cheap cheap cheap," Alfred said, attempting to sound like a bird.

"If it was legal to smack you in public, I would," Arthur threatened.

"Do it. I dare you," Alfred encouraged and looked at him with fierce blue eyes.

"Go chase a parked car," Arthur said.

"I'm not falling for that again," Alfred huffed.

"Save the unnecessary banter for later," Francis said, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "Let's have a nice, normal family outing. Okay?"

"Okay," Alfred said and crossed his arms.

"I'm trying," Arthur said, shooting a look at Alfred. The boy needed to learn not to argue with him. Honestly, where did he go wrong?

"Try harder," Francis suggested as they moved to look at other couches.

"This one!" Alfred said and bounced down onto a cream colored sectional.

"I do like this one," Francis said.

"Hmm, it's a bit... big," Arthur said and a quick examination.

"That's your only complaint?" Alfred asked, barely hiding a smirk.

"I might complain about the price," Arthur said and walked over to look at the information tag.

"For the size, it's not expensive," Francis said and Arthur could hear the subtext in his voice, which he rolled his eyes at.

"I suppose it's not too bad," he mused. He still really did not want to replace his couch. And this one was so much different than his current one.

"Let's buy it then," Alfred said.

"I think we should look around more," Arthur said, hesitating.

"You're just afraid of commitment," Alfred spoke.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Francis pause and frown ever so slightly. "What the body hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked, ready to smack Alfred upside the head.

"I meant what I said," Alfred said simply, cockily.

"Arthur?" Francis murmured in concern.

"It's nothing, love. Alfred is just being a little-"

"Elizabeth," Alfred interrupted. Arthur looked at him in suppressed horror and fury. He wouldn't do something like this now, would he? Alfred put his arms behind his head and leaned back on the cushions, wisely choosing to say nothing more. His look seemed to say 'buy the couch and no one will have to know'.

"Fine. We'll get this couch," Arthur said and abruptly walked away to find a salesperson. Francis was going to ask about it later, no doubt. Thankfully, Francis said nothing about it while Alfred was around, although his demeanor changed slightly until they could be alone.

And that night, while Arthur was reading, Francis stepped into the room. He closed the door, but didn't move closer to him.

"So... who is Elizabeth?"

* * *

Alfred couldn't believe that worked. It looked like he'd completely strained Francis' and his dad's relationship with one word. And all to get a couch. He honestly couldn't believe that he did that. He thought everything would be fine. But it turned out that Francis was a little bit of the jealous type. He'd heard the name, saw Arthur tense up, and immediately looked like someone just insulted his cooking.

Alfred realized too little too late that he'd done something seriously wrong. He really liked Francis and saw him as his other father figure. He hoped his dad would be able to explain it. He hoped there wouldn't be a fight. And what if they broke up? He began to feel more and more guilty as the day went on.

Dinner was pretty tense, too. No one said much. He knew it was his fault for this happening. But he still meant what he said. His dad was afraid of commitment. He always chose everything carefully from buying fresh fruit to the brand of toilet paper. That's why Alfred was surprised when Arthur said yes to be engaged without barely any hesitation. And that he asked Francis to move in.

If Alfred had to guess, he'd say Francis was the one thing his dad would never hesitate on. He could see the love behind their little bickering. He was afraid that he'd messed it all up. He'd messed up having a whole family.

He could hear yelling coming from his dad's room. Sure his dad and Francis argued a lot... but never like this. He couldn't really hear any words, so being the curious teen he was, he crept out from his room and down the hall. He pressed his ear to his dad's door to listen.

"You're so closed up! You never tell me anything! Did you expect me to know about this or something?" Francis was saying angrily.

"No, you weren't supposed to know! She is in the past!" Arthur retorted, "I didn't need to tell you!"

"But you never tell me anything!" Francis said, sounding like he was close to tears, "how- how am I supposed to live with you if you're not honest and committed? How am I supposed to know you even love me?"

"Maybe if you weren't so damn emotional, there wouldn't be a problem," Arthur shot back.

"I'm not emotional, you're emotionless. You are not a robot, Arthur. You're able to feel things. You feel anger, why can't you feel love?"

"My emotions are just fine. You just have the emotions of a pubescent teenage girl," Arthur said and Alfred thought about the girls at his school. They were certainly very emotional.

"Well, I'm sorry," Francis apologized sarcastically.

"I'm not," Arthur snapped, "now move, I'm going out."

"You can't just drown your thoughts in alcohol," Francis protested.

"Its not like you don't," Arthur said and suddenly the door opened. Just like in a cartoon, Alfred toppled over onto the floor. He heard his dad give a long suffering sigh, "You take care of this."

"Me? You're his father," Francis said.

"I don't care right now," Arthur said and stepped over him, walking swiftly down the hall.

Alfred sat up and looked up at Francis. They stared for a few seconds before Alfred broke out in a cheeky grin.

"Hey, how you doing?"

"Get up and stop eavesdropping," Francis said and Alfred stood up. He was so tall that in a few years, he'd be taller than Francis. If his dad didn't kill him first, that is. "Have you ever seen him this angry?" He asked, referring to Arthur.

"Only a couple times," Alfred admitted.

"Mon Dieu, this is bad," Francis said and ran a hand through his hair, "I just asked who Elizabeth was. I didn't mean to start a fight."

"Not your fault," Alfred said, "he's just really secretive."

"So I've noticed," Francis sighed.

"Hey, he'll get over himself," Alfred said, "I mean, he'll come home drunk, if he makes it home, but it'll be fine tomorrow."

"How do you know that?"

"He'll be too hung over to yell at you," Alfred said.

"That's a start, I guess," Francis said and started walking down the hall.

"Sp you're not going to punish me?" Alfred asked.

"What? Oh no, I'm sure you had heard us from your room anyways," Francis said.

"Just a little," Alfred said and walked back to his room. If Arthur had wanted to deal with him, considering how angry he was, he probably would have grounded him for a week for "being a pest".

He got back on his laptop and now that the house was quiet, he could concentrate on this stuff. He was still researching about the Nuclear War because it was just so interesting. He looked at videos and articles from before he was born, that talked of trying to keep peace. And how, when that didn't work, threats at Russia to just back off. And when that didn't work, they went to war.

It kind of reminded him of his dad and Francis' arguments. They would be at peace, then they'd start to argue, and then they'd full out yell, until one of them dropped it. In the war's case, a nuke. In his dad's case, a slamming door. And then, after a short while, everything would be at peace again.

So in short, his life was like a war he was in the middle of. Alfred was like Switzerland. Just trying to stay out of the way of England and France.

He supposed not many people could relate their lives to history. Maybe he'd write a paper about it once he was back in school. He'd certainly receive good marks on that, if at his dad's disapproval.

* * *

Who in the bloody hell did Francis think he was? He was a gentleman, dammit! He... he didn't need to speak about his past. None of that mattered.

He took a drink of his beer and sat up because he certainly was a gentleman, and they didn't slouch. He looked at the bar tender in front of him through his bleary eyes and tapped his empty glass. "Another one, please."

"Sir, I think that you've had enough," she said gently.

He sighed, "I can bloody well handle another round. I need to forget my troubles..."

"Sir, I understand but-"

"You understand? No! No one understands!" he burst out abruptly, "My place back in America caught on fire because of the damn war! It burned everything I owned! And I had to leave because it was turned into a wasteland! I-I had to move where the fire didn't burn. It was gated- heavens knows why- but it was. And it was nice for a short while. People were confused and scared. We didn't know what to do. But we didn't want to die so we stayed put in this little untouched city," he blurted angrily and hiccuped.

"Oh my..." the girl said. He tapped the glass again insistently. This time she refilled it.

"Thanks, love," his said and drank more of the mind numbing liquid. His mind became even hazier to the point where he slurred his next sentence, "what's a nice girl like you working in a place like this?"

"Just paying for college," she said, or at least that's what he thought she said. He nodded and pulled out a £20 note and slid it to her.

"There ya go. Keep the change," he smiled drunkenly and she smiled back kindly.

"Thank you. Would you like me to call a cab?"

"I walked here and I can walk back," he said. He finished what was left in his glass and stood. If he'd had a hat on, he would have tipped it to her. But he didn't, so he just nodded and stumbled out of the pub. He walked down the sidewalk, hammered, and he couldn't remember for the life of him what the argument earlier was about. Was there even an argument? And where was he going? Home? He looked around at the dimly lit street, trying to gather his bearings. Ah, yes, he only lived a hop and a skip down the block.

He raised his head high and walked, stumbling every once in awhile, but humming to himself in good spirits.

At some point he crossed over a small bridge, where a creek was trickling through. He glanced down at the low water and almost fell over the railing. His vision twisted and as he looked down, he became queasy. He stepped away from the railing, stumbled a few more feet off the bridge, and threw up on the grass next to the sidewalk. He held his sides as he retched and suddenly his good mood was completely ruined.

He scowled and wiped his mouth. He picked himself up and quickly stumbled the rest of the way home. The night air was warm but he shivered anyways, feeling disoriented. He finally reached his porch, well the porch he thought was his, and reached out for the handle. As he stood there, a wave of nausea hit him, his knees buckled, and he was out like a light.

* * *

 **What's FrUK without a little fighting? We found out a little of Arthur's past which is the third plot line! What's he hiding? His place burned down? And who's Elizabeth? Oh, I can tell you that! An old girlfriend of his who left him because he's, well, Arthur. Also she is named after Queen Elizabeth the 1st because of headcannon reasons. No Matthew this chapter or for a couple more :( sorry I promise he's important!**

 **I'm dealing with some stuff right now so I won't be able to write much as I'm stressed so I might fall behind. I'm grateful for all of you reading and being patient with me.**


	6. Memories

"Did you hear that?" Francis asked as Alfred trooped out into the kitchen, a few hours after his dad's blowup, in search of food. It was around 1 in the morning, but a bag of crisps wouldn't hurt.

"No, what?" he asked.

"Sounds like something hit the front door."

"Probably a bird," he shrugged and opened the pantry door, "or a burglar trying to get in."

"I'm not sure," Francis said, "But if it's a burglar I'm not giving my life for you."

"Same for you," Alfred smiled and grabbed out a bag of crisps. Francis walked to the door and opened it anyways. Alfred peered around him as Francis gasped.

"Mon Dieu! Arthur!" Francis said and quickly bent down to pick up an unconscious Arthur.

"Holy shit," Alfred swore and nearly dropped his bag of crisps. He set the bag down safely and helped Francis carry his dad in and lay him on the new couch. He smelled strongly of alcohol and regret. Could you smell regret? Well anyways, he looked like it too. "He's like, dead."

"Don't say such things!" Francis said, worry evident in his voice.

"Sorry," he muttered as Francis turned his dad on his side, "what are you doing that for?"

"In case he throws up, this way he won't choke. Now go get me a damp cloth."

Alfred nodded and went to do as Francis directed. He didn't think he ever would want to drink because he could pass out. And he wouldn't have anyone to take care of him like his dad did. In all the years, and all the times his dad came home drunk, he didn't know what to do at all. But Francis knew everything when it came to alcohol, or sex, or even fashion.

He went back into the living room and offered Francis the wet cloth. He took it and gently placed it on his dad's forehead, then looked at Alfred.

"He's responsive and breathing, so he should be just fine. I can't find any head or neck injuries, which is good," he explained.

"Oh, okay," Alfred said, trying to absorb all this information for the future.

"I just can't believe he resorted to this."

"At least he made it home," Alfred appeased, "you know, and not with someone he found in the pub."

"If you're trying to help, its not working."

Alfred shrugged, "I wasn't really."

Francis sighed, "It's late, go to bed."

"I'm not tired."

"Then play a video game until you are," he said.

"Fine," Alfred said. He picked up his bag of crisps and went back to his room. He started up a game, picked up his controller, and assumed the gamer position. He munched on his snack, the game volume low in case anything happened out in the living room.

* * *

The next morning, Arthur awoke to a pounding in his head and a burning in his eyes. He groaned feebly and rolled over so that the sun wouldn't bother him. His mind was fuzzy and he couldn't remember a thing that had happened yesterday. He heard movement near him and covered his ear as the noise shot through his skull. He groaned in pain and misery.

"Arthur?" a quiet voice whispered next to him. He felt a hand touch his shoulder, "How are you feeling?"

He groaned in response, his mind not able to form any words.

"I'll get you some coffee," Francis said a bit louder.

"I don't want any bloody coffee," Arthur grumbled, his own voice too loud in his head.

"Tea won't help as well for a hangover," Francis said.

"I don't want that either," he muttered.

"You are really, very hungover," Francis observed, "maybe next time you won't drink as much."

"Go to hell," he said and slowly sat up, holding his head as more pain coursed through it.

"Eventually," Francis said. He pried open his eyes to look at the man.

"Don't be an arse," he said and rubbed his face. He felt like total and utter crap.

"Sorry," Francis said and carefully sat next to him. It was silent for a moment before he spoke again, "do you remember what happened last night?"

"Uh..." he pressed on his temples as his headache got worse. Snippets of words and images floated through his head, "we were arguing and I left... then I went to the pub and had a few drinks... talked to the bartender... and I don't quite remember how I got home."

"Okay. Well I believe you attempted to walk home but you passed out on the doorstep," Francis said, "Alfred and I brought you inside before the raccoons could get to you."

"How thoughtful," he murmured.

"Francis!" Alfred yelled from across the house, accompanied with loud footsteps. The voice riveted through Arthur's head and made him clench his teeth in pain.

"Calm down, your father is hungover," Francis said and Alfred nodded, stopping before them, "what do you need?"

"My glasses are in, so we need to go get them," Alfred said, quieter than his normal tone.

"Okay, we'll leave soon," Francis said and Alfred nodded, going back to his room.

"He's so bloody loud," Arthur said more to himself, although Francis could hear it too.

"You raised him," Francis said and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Help, don't hinder."

"I am helping. I'm taking your loud son out of the house for a little bit," Francis said.

"Thanks," he said, a bit ruefully.

"Only because I love you," Francis smiled. Arthur looked at him, and Francis looked back as if expecting the same response.

"I tolerate you, too," he said instead.

Francis clutched his chest dramatically, "Oh, mon amour, you wound me."

"I'll 'wound' you alright," he smirked and Francis smiled playfully, leaning in for a kiss. His head pounded, especially now with a lack of oxygen, but he ignored it. Francis set his hands on the back of his head, threading them through his hair as the kiss heated up.

Arthur had to pull back for air after a moment and Francis panted slightly.

He grinned, "Make up sex tonight?"

"Oh, most definitely," Arthur agreed, sounding sultry. They'd both rather drop the subject and get to the good part anyways, "but right now, you have to take Alfred to get his glasses."

"Oh the joys of parenting," Francis said sarcastically and stood.

"He'll be off in three years," Arthur said and sat back comfortably. He didn't feel like he could stand yet without falling over and making a fool of himself.

"And then we can do what we want, when we want," Francis said with a wink and walked down the hall with a flourish.

Arthur rolled his eyes but completely agreed with him. In three years it would be just them. No Alfred meant alone time, peace and quiet. It meant no messes to clean, no teenage problems to fix, no whining and pleading, no video game noises, no messy rooms or eavesdropping... he was sure going to miss him.

Alfred and Francis walked back throughout the living room, exchanging goodbyes. Alfred almost walked into a lamp as he was talking, but he caught himself in time, laughed, and hurried out. Francis blew a kiss and followed.

A few minutes later the car pulled out of the driveway, and Arthur began to realize how alone he was. How empty the house was. And he didn't like it one bit.

He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around him, holding himself. The house was deathly quiet which was good for his headache, but bad for the rest of him.

He didn't know why, being alone hadn't really bothered him much before- but a memory flashed through his mind that made him shake.

It was the height of the war. Arthur lived alone, in peace, in the outskirts of D.C. in America. It was another normal day, as far as he was concerned. But then... an unexpected nuclear bomb dropped from the sky. It exploded, decimating everything around it. Arthur's house wasn't immediately destroyed as it was far enough away, but within minutes, it caught on fire. He took nothing as he fled his burning home. He couldn't even stand and watch it burn for more than a few seconds before he had to run. He ran, with other people, away from the fire and destruction. Cars were unusable due to rubble in the roads. The fire followed them, igniting house after house as the fire department could do nothing. Houses were burned to the ground, buildings fell over, windows were smashed, and people were raiding the places left intact. Thousands of people died in the one attack, although not all immediately. Arthur got out of there fast enough, to a town miles away that was out of range of the devastation. It and neighboring cities opened buildings to the survivors.

Arthur remembered it all clearly, but stopped his memories from wandering any farther. He looked up, ready for another air strike even though he was in a different country that wasn't even at war. It didn't make sense to him, but irrational fear never did.

Slowly, he unwound himself out of the fetal position and went into the kitchen. He put the kettle on to boil and leaned against the counter, staring out of the kitchen window.

The day was clear and bright. That day had looked the same.. until the smoke from fires blocked out the sky.

Quickly, he made a cup of tea and walked outside, feeling like he was suffocating inside the house. He sat on the chair swing on the porch and looked down the street, blowing on his tea to cool it. His fingers were shaking slightly. He held the cup with one hand, while the other gently touched his side. Under his shirt was a scar from when glass exploded from the buildings around him as he ran to safety. Shards had lodged themselves in his side, and he fell, almost being trampled by others. He had crawled out of the way and taken as much glass out as he could before he had to keep moving. He had kept running as he held his side, his breaths ragged from exertion and blood loss...

He snapped out of it when he heard a car drive past him. He blinked slowly and removed his hand, taking a sip of his tea in an attempt to calm himself. He couldn't even begin to count how many times this happened to him in a week. These little flashbacks. It was worse when they occurred during his sleep. But they didn't happen as often anymore. They had mostly stopped years ago.

Although there were the nights when he'd wake up in a cold sweat. Some of those nights there would be Francis in his bed to comfort him, although his nightmares are part of what scared Elizabeth away...

No, he wasn't going to think about her right now. The past was the past, after all, even if it caught up with him once in awhile.

He sat on the porch for awhile until his tea was gone. But still, he didn't go inside. He couldn't make himself do it. So he waited until the car pulled up the driveway. He put on a warm smile for the boys as they got out and walked over.

"Aren't my new glasses so awesome!" Alfred said happily as he stopped in front of him.

"They're lovely," Arthur responded.

"I know right!" he smiled as Francis stood next to him.

"Here, take these to your room so they will be safe," Francis said and handed Alfred a glasses case with the spare pair inside. He nodded and went inside the house with it. Arthur looked up at Francis, feeling a sense of security now that he was here. "Why are you outside?"

"It's a nice day and fresh air does wonders for a hangover," he said.

"You don't have to lie to me," Francis sighed and sat next to him, causing it to swing, "fights start that way."

"I suppose," he said and paused while collecting his thoughts, "I'm just a bit paranoid. I couldn't stand to be inside any longer, alone... Not all the scars I received were physical."

"I know, Arthur," Francis said and wrapped his arm around him. Arthur leaned into him for comfort and sighed.

"Please don't ever leave me," he said. He paused and Francis started to speak, but he cut him off as he suddenly continued, "I know we argue and I'm hot headed and I have nightmares and I'm a single father, but you put up with all that. I don't tell you this enough but I love you and I'm grateful for everything you've done for Alfred and I."

"You make me sound like some kind of hero," Francis laughed gently, "but I don't just 'put up with you', as you say. I do everything I do because I love you and all the baggage that comes with you. I couldn't ever imagine leaving you."

"Thank you," he murmured, feeling lucky to have Francis there for him.

* * *

Two weeks later, a letter arrived at the Kirkland residence, addressed to Alfred Kirkland. It was sent all the way from America with neat handwriting on the envelope. Alfred found the letter on the kitchen counter when he finally dragged himself out of bed on a warm July day. He couldn't believe his eyes at first. Matthew had answered him!? He grabbed the letter and clumsily ripped it open, all thought of breakfast vanishing from his mind.

He opened the paper with more care, slowly so that it wouldn't crumple or rip. He bit his lip in anticipation as he began reading the words.

 _Dear Alfred,_

* * *

 **Ahh cliffhanger! What does the letter say? You'll have to wait to find out! I can't put backstory and a big reveal in the same chapter, that would be too nice. But you got some cute FrUk. Stick with me guys, it will be worth it! I appreciate each and every reader, even if you're hiding in the shadows! Please drop a review, it really helps me get rid of this horrid writer's block. Until next time!**


	7. Brothers

_Dear Alfred,_

 _Hi, it's very nice to meet you. I must have sounded a little desperate on TV for you to have sent me a letter all the way from London! But I'm glad you did. I've been thinking that you really could be my brother, considering everything you told me. I don't know my parents or any of my family, and I've been in an orphanage my entire life. I've been moved from family to family, no one wanting a shy kid like me._

 _I was given the name Matthew and came up with Williams myself because it sounded nice. I was also given the birthday of July 3, so that's a nice coincidence. And that bear you saw on TV was given to me by my social worker when I was little, and it's one of the few things I own, so I never go anywhere without it in fear some of the other kids will hurt it._

 _I would like to talk to you some more but letters take a long time to arrive. I don't have any social media since our "foster mother" is evil and won't let us online in case we're trying to contact family or something. But I can give you the number to the orphanage phone. Call on Saturday at 9 am, my time. The number is at the bottom, I'll be waiting to talk to you._

 _Thanks for finding me, I really appreciate it._

 _Sincerely, Matthew Williams_

Alfred quickly read over the words in excitement. If Matthew had the same birthday, then they were twins! But how was he all the way in America? Something wasn't adding up. But, whatever, he had found someone related to him!

He realized that it was Friday, so he only had to wait until tomorrow to call. He would just have to tell Matthew everything. Maybe Matthew knew how they ended up separated. Maybe he would finally have some answers!

He thought briefly about telling his dad, but then realized that was a bad idea. His dad would never let him call. So, he decided to keep it to himself until he was absolutely sure this Matthew guy was his brother.

He spent the entire day a little too hyper. It was kind of like he mixed red bull and coffee together, that's how pumped he was. His dad gave him a few weird looks but didn't say anything.

He could barely even sleep that night, but at some point he fell asleep. In the morning, he woke up exhausted. He was about to turn over and go back to sleep when he realized he was calling Matthew in a few hours. He shot up, all his energy returning, and went into the kitchen to get some breakfast.

He ate some lucky charms, thinking about everything he was going to say. But the thoughts all crammed together so that he couldn't even get a coherent stream of words together in his mind.

"You're up early," his dad noted as he walked in, "it's only eleven o' clock. Are you sick?" He was already dressed for the day and probably had been for a few hours.

"I went to bed early," Alfred lied, with a mouth full of marshmallows.

"That's understandable considering you were practically bouncing off the walls yesterday," he said.

Alfred nodded and shoved more food in his mouth so he wouldn't accidentally ruin everything. His dad walked over with a napkin and wiped the milk dribbling down his chin.

"Hey!" he protested and leaned away from him.

"Honestly, Alfred, I wouldn't have to do this if you did it yourself. You're definitely old enough."

"I was in the middle of chewing!" he said.

"Excuses, excuses," his dad said and waved his hand dismissively.

"But it's true," he said. His dad only rolled his eyes and turned away, ignoring him. He sighed and finished off his bowl of cereal. He put it in the sink and hurried to his room before his dad could continue scolding him.

Once he was locked away in his room, he went online to continue to try to find anything about him or Matthew or any of his family. He decided to click on his dad's page.

Name: Arthur Kirkland  
Sex: Male  
D.O.B: April 23, 1995  
Hair color: blonde  
Eye color: green  
Mother: Victoria Heath  
Father: Henry Kirkland  
Offspring: Alfred Jones (adopted)

There it was. He found his name! Eagerly, he clicked on the link, nearly bursting as the page loaded. The screen turned white and he read the worst thing he could imagine:

 _Error 404: Page Not Found._

He nearly broke the laptop in half but instead turned and punched the wall in a rage of fury. He was so close! Why didn't his page exist? Why!?

He took deep breaths and slowly calmed down as he looked at his red knuckles. He cradled his hurt hand and sucked in the pain, looking at the wall. There was a fist sized hole in the drywall. Well shit.

The door opened and his dad walked in urgently. "Alfred, what- the bloody hell did you do to my wall?" he finished his sentence with his voice rising.

"Uhh..." he stared at his hand, his mind busy with stopping the severe physical pain he was in.

"What did he- Mon Dieu, he punched a hole in the wall!" Francis gasped from behind his dad.

"Sorry," he managed to mutter.

"'Sorry' isn't going to pay for this. Just what were you doing?" his dad demanded.

"I just got a little pissed off," he shrugged.

"A little," Francis chuckled quietly.

They both chose to ignore him. "About what?"

"It's like I don't exist," he sighed.

"You're exaggerating. I'm sure your friends aren't purposefully ignoring you."

"No, it's not that," he said and shook his head.

"Then what?" his dad prompted.

"There's no records of me. It says I'm your son, but that's it. There's no page on me."

"You're still on that?" his dad asked, sounding bored of the repetition.

"'Still on that'? Dad, this is serious. I barely exist!"

"It's just a glitch."

"No, it's not! I can't find my mom or dad or any of my family because I don't have any existing records! What are you hiding?" he inquired desperately.

"First of all, I have no part in this, so stop accusing me. Second, if you calmed down I would suggest finding a number and calling to find out what happened."

"I don't wanna calm down! I can't until I have answers," Alfred said and stared at him, waiting for his dad to tell him something.

"Well you're not going to get those answers from me. Call them," his dad said stubbornly.

"Fine," he grumbled and looked away.

"We'll fix the wall as soon as I get the materials, alright?"

"Whatever," he said. He heard his dad sigh and walk out, Francis talking to him soothingly.

He looked at the time and saw he had to call Matthew soon, so he wouldn't have time to call the records place. He could just do it later. He hoped that they had some answers, because he really needed them.

He opened the letter on his bed and dialed the number at exactly 2 o' click, which would be 9 in Matthew's time. He waited with baited breath as it rang. He wondered if Matthew himself would answer or if someone else would.

"Hello?" a voice answered.

"Hi, um, I'm calling for a Matthew?" he said a bit awkwardly.

"Speaking," Matthew said, who had answered the phone.

"Oh, hey, it's Alfred."

"Whoa, I can't believe you actually called. So you're serious about this?" Matthew gasped.

"Yeah, of course! So I was wondering if you know anything at all about your parents or what?"

"I don't know anything about them. Like I said in my letter, I never knew them."

"Well, I think I found you in the American birth records. Hold on while I pull it up." Alfred paused and opened the site on his laptop and looked Matthew up again. "So you really don't have any technology there?"

"There's a few gaming systems, but I don't usually use those," Matthew said.

"That sucks."

"Yeah, it does."

"But at least you get to use a phone, right?" Alfred sighed to himself impatiently as he scrolled down the page.

"Right. But I can only be on for ten minutes."

"Okay, I'll hurry," he said. He pulled up the information and read it to him. Matthew listened silently and said nothing for a few moments after Alfred finished.

"That... That does sound like me," he finally said.

"I know right. Do you really have violet eyes?"

"They're kinda blue too, but yeah."

"That's so cool," Alfred said, "Okay, so on your page it says you have a mom, but no known dad. When I click on her link it says her name was Ayiana."

"That sounds like a tribal name," Matthew said.

"Oh, it does. I didn't think of that," he said and made a mental note of it, "Anyways, it says she has two kids, and it links to you, but not to me. I don't exist as her kid.

"That's weird," Matthew said, "But at least I know my birth mom's name. Even if she is dead..."

"Yeah, it's a start," Alfred agreed, "It's more than I have, since I don't have any shit on here."

"True," Matthew said, "but why aren't you on there?"

"I have no freaking idea and it pisses me off," he said.

"Have you asked anyone about it?"

"My dad doesn't know shit and I'm actually about to call the record place and see what I can find out."

"Oh, okay, I hope you find something," Matthew said.

"Me too," he said a bit distantly.

"Hey, Alfred?"

"Yeah?" he replied, blinking back into focus.

"If we really are related, and I think we really could be, you should come see me."

"I don't know if I can."

"It's just that..." Matthew paused and lowered his already quiet voice. Alfred had to strain his ears to hear him. "I want out. I want a family that will love me and actually keep me. I never had a normal childhood, you know? I'm just really hoping you're my brother and I can come live with you. They'd have to let me be adopted then."

"Yeah, I just... My dad probably won't do anything cause he's got a stick up his ass. But maybe we can go on a vacation near there or something."

"That would be nice," Matthew said a bit louder.

"Yeah. I'll think about it. But right now I'm gonna see about if I'm alive or not," he said and clicked on the contact page to find a number.

"Okay. Call me next week, same time."

"Deal. See ya, bro."

"Bye," Matthew said and hung up. He thought about what Matthew said as he called the place. He must hate it there.

He was put on an automated messaging system and sighed. Great, he was going to be here awhile. He pressed a few buttons according to the message and was eventually put on hold. He laid back and stared at his ceiling.

His room was big enough for Matthew to move in. Or his dad could turn his office into a second bedroom. Like he would ever do that.

It felt like ages, but he was finally connected with a real live person. He told them everything, trying to sound grown up so they would take him seriously. It didn't help that his voice cracked once or twice. He waited as they looked through their databases. He was tense and his foot was doing a nervous bounce. What if it wasn't a glitch? What if he wasn't supposed to be alive? He worried his bottom lip and the person came back on the phone again. They began reading information about him, asking if it was correct. Alfred listened and said it was, knowing they finally found him. He was alive!

He asked why it wasn't linked from his dad. Just an error, they said, they'll fix it.

And then, they told him something he wasn't expecting. It wasn't possible... He was found in the United States databases. He was American!? Quickly, he thanked them and hung up.

His fingers flew over his laptop keys, going into the American databases. He searched his name and boom, there he was. Just like that.

Name: Alfred Kirkland  
Sex: Male  
Dob: July 3, 2016  
Hair color: blonde  
Eye color: blue  
Father: Arthur Kirkland (adopted)  
Mother: N/A

But still, no mother. He scrolled through the other information. It didn't look like he was born in a hospital either, so he couldn't call there.

Maybe now his dad would finally tell him. He knew the country he was born in. That meant his dad had been lying to him his entire life. Well, that was about to change. He couldn't hide the truth any longer.

* * *

 **And Matthew is back! How exciting! Alfred finally got some of the answers he wanted, and he might get more next chapter. I don't have much to say about this chapter, so thank you for reading!**

 **Also, for the 4th of July tomorrow, I will be posting a one shot! If you want more of the Alfred and Matthew brother dynamic, please check it out! Have a great day.**


	8. Apples to Apples

Alfred was on a mission. A mission to get the truth out of his dad. He took his laptop out of the room and down the hall to where he heard his dad laughing with Francis in the living room. There was no escape for him this time.

"Dad," he interrupted them impatiently and walked over.

"What did you find? Was it a glitch?" his dad asked, sitting up and trying to look more presentable, like he totally wasn't just making out with Francis.

"Take a look for yourself," he said and showed them the laptop. They read the information on the screen.

"Well there you go, you're alive. Just a glitch, like I told you," his dad said.

"Look at the top of the page," he instructed, knowing his dad had no way out of this now.

"United States of America Birth Records..." he read aloud. He seemed to freeze, caught in his lie.

Francis put a hand on his shoulder. "Arthur, I think-"

"No, that must be mistaken," his dad interrupted.

"What the hell do you mean? It says right here that I was born in America. So you better tell me what the fuck is going on right now," Alfred demanded, getting frustrated again.

"Please tell him," Francis sighed.

"Fine," his dad said begrudgingly. He looked up at him and met his eyes, "Sit down, it's a long story." Alfred nodded and sat down, glad to finally be getting some answers. "Alright, you were born in America. Around D.C, I believe. The war was at an armistice, with rumors of a treaty spreading around. I had moved to the outskirts of the city, where many people without homes went, looking for refuge. It took a few months, but some people were moved into newer houses that were on the edge of the evacuation area. They had been built originally for military families. Anyways, I was able to get a house and had been living there for not even a month when there was a knock on the door. I opened it and saw a baby all swaddled up on my porch, crying. I looked around and didn't see anyone, but I also knew I couldn't just leave you there, so I took you in.

"Being originally from Britain, I wanted to move back, where the war hadn't touched. Many refugees decided this was a good idea as well, so people were flocking to Europe. I moved back here, got an apartment, found a job, and worked my way up. We moved here after a few years and here you are. So, yes, you were originally born in America."

He listened and thought things over, but it wasn't all adding up. "Wait, why didn't you just tell me before?"

"I didn't want you to go looking."

"Really? You didn't think I'd realize I don't have a mom? I know Francis looks like a girl but he's not one."

"You're just jealous," Francis said with a hair flip.

"Sure," he responded dismissively and looked back at his dad, "But that just can't be it."

"That's most of it," his dad said.

"Tell me the rest!" he urged.

"I'm just trying to keep you safe! America is still fucked up and who knows who they're going to piss off next! They could be going to war at any time! If you had found out when you were younger, you would have wanted to go, and I-I couldn't do that! I still can't go back and I never will," his dad blurted and shook his head.

Alfred flinched at his dad's outburst. But as he spoke, he noticed his dad was shaking. He wasn't angry, he was scared. He knew he must have had lost his house to war from his story. But what had really gone down back then? "Dad, what happened back in America? They're not going to be attacked anytime soon, so that's not an excuse. Just, why can't you go back?"

"I don't have to tell you," his dad said. Francis reached for his hand and held it, squeezing tightly for support.

"Your father has some scars, bad memories."

"The nightmares?" Alfred asked.

"You know about those?" his dad asked, looking at the ground in shame.

"Yeah, these walls aren't that thin," he said.

His dad didn't say anything after that, so Francis continued for him. "He'd rather not burden you with it. Besides, something like that is hard to talk about."

"Oh," Alfred said, not wanting to push it any further, "Okay, well, I'll be in my room." He stood and took his laptop with him.

At least he finally got the answers he'd needed. They weren't what he was expecting, but he didn't know what he was expecting in the first place.

* * *

His hands shook and his breathing was fast. He was numbly aware of soft speaking and arms around him. He could hear the flames, the screams, the crying and dying. He was aware it was a nightmare. But he just couldn't get out. He couldn't move his feet.

Ceiling cracked above him and fell, crashing around him. The windows exploded from the heat of the flames and embedded themselves in his body. He cried out in pain, in terror, never wanting his mum so much in his life.

"Help! Please, someone, help me!" he yelled and looked up. He saw light, not from flame, but from what seemed to be the sun. He reached up for it with a bloody hand, just wanting a way out. He grabbed the light source and pulled himself up. Up into reality.

He opened his eyes with a strangled gasp, immediately checking his arms for the scars long healed.

"Arthur, calm down, it's okay," Francis spoke through the haze, and he remembered the arms around him. He leaned into him, shaking, remembering where he was again. It was the middle of the night and he was in bed. He was safe, but his mind told him otherwise.

"I-I couldn't move," he said shakily, "there was fire and glass..." He turned his face into the Frenchman's chest, choking back a sob and the tears that would follow.

"It was just a dream, you're safe here," Francis soothed, "go ahead and cry. It's bad to hold it back."

Arthur silently let the tears fall, the sobs wracking his body. Francis held him and sung to him in French. Arthur usually expressed annoyance at this, but right now he found it oddly comforting.

After awhile the tears stopped and he sat up, Francis letting go of him. "Do you want to talk about it more?"

"No," he said, his voice a bit hoarse.

"If you don't, it won't get any better."

"I don't care," he said, "If it's like this now then it's not going to get better if I talk about it."

"I think it's time you see a therapist," Francis said gently.

"You think a bloody therapist would help anything?" he scoffed. That was absolutely absurd.

"Yes, I really do," Francis said matter-of-factly.

"I'm not seeing anybody," he refused. He had been dealing with it this long, and he could keep doing it until the day he died if he had to.

Francis took his chin and looked at his tear stained face. "Would you at least give it a try? For me?"

"I don't- I don't need any help," he stammered slightly. He felt weak and vulnerable but he knew even in this state, he wasn't going to see a shrink.

"You don't?" Francis said, going along with him.

"No," he confirmed.

"Then why were you calling out for help in your sleep?" Francis asked.

"Because I was in the middle of a fire," he snapped.

"Your nightmares are very real, aren't they?" Francis asked and he nodded weakly. It was worse when he knew they weren't real. He couldn't run when he knew. "How did you do it this long alone?"

"I'm stronger than I look," he said.

"More like stubborn," Francis smiled slightly. He rolled his eyes in response. "Let's go back to sleep, okay? I'm right here. Nothing's going to happen to you."

He nodded laid back down next to him. He closed his eyes and pressed close to Francis, needing to feel like he wasn't alone.

Yes, he had gone through it all alone. Through the pain, the terror. He raised a child alone while dealing with the nightmares. He could continue it alone, if he had to. But he would really prefer not to.

* * *

The sky was darkening with an impending thunderstorm. The weather man said it was going to be a bad one, so they stayed in for the afternoon. The first crack of thunder and flash of lightning had Francis happily setting a game on the coffee table.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Arthur asked.

"Apples to Apples," Francis announced, "when I was a boy and it stormed we would play board games to pass the time. It was tradition."

"Do stores even sell board games anymore?" Alfred asked.

"No, I ordered it online," he said and sat on the couch between them, "this is more of a card game and it's very simple. I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

"Don't hold your breath," Arthur mumbled and prepared himself to learn about the game.

Francis explained how to play and it was fairly simple. Just make the funniest, most relate-able, or a complete match from your red cards to the green cards. Considering they were all very competitive, this seemed like a bad idea.

"Why did you pick his? You should have picked mine!" Alfred whined to Francis.

"I just chose the most accurate one," Francis said, giving the green card to Arthur who proudly took it.

"But Canada is lame!" he said.

"I think Canada is a great place," Arthur grinned, proudly holding the "lame" card that put him in the lead, "disco is even more lame."

"But what's disco?" Alfred asked.

"A type of music back before either of us were born," he said, "It was bad then and it's bad now."

"Fine. Whatever. Canada is still lame."

"We'll make sure to never take you to Canada then," Francis said.

"Fine by me," Alfred said.

They had a pretty good time and at the end of the game when Francis won (he cheated somehow...), he threw a surprise at them.

"The best part of this game is that the cards you won describe you. My cards say fabulous, perfect, passionate, loved, and exciting."

Arthur glanced down at his cards and as he read them aloud. "Stubborn, grumpy, and lame. I hate all of you."

"You're grumpy cat," Francis laughed.

"Don't reference that 2014 meme to me," he scoffed.

"What's a 'meme'?" Alfred asked.

"It's was popular things that were shared and reblogged a lot," Francis explained, "there happened to be this cat who always looked grumpy and became famously known as 'grumpy cat."

"Uh... Okay," Alfred agreed, "anyways, my cards say loud, hyper, sexy, and obnoxious."

"I'm beginning to think these cards are just the slightest bit faulty," Arthur said.

"Not mine. I'm all of these," Francis said pompously.

"All of yours are wrong," Arthur said.

"I'm not loved, then?"

"Only occasionally," Arthur replied with a small smirk.

"Better than nothing," Francis laughed.

"Gross," Alfred muttered, "Can I leave now?"

"Sure," he said and Alfred promptly left to his room. He looked at Francis and twiddled a card between his fingers. "You know, it's the year 2031. Why don't we have flying cars or robot slaves?"

"Ask the Prime Minister," Francis laughed lightly, then sobered, "but I think you know why."

He nodded, "If only it hadn't happened."

Francis set his hand on the one holding the card. "Arthur I-"

"No, I'm fine," he said and abruptly stood, not wanting to get into this right now. Not just days after Francis recommended a therapist to him."I have some work to finish."

He was aware of Francis watching him as he walked to his office. He closed the door behind him and locked it so no one would bother him. He sat at his desk and looked at the stack of papers he had to review and scan, then send into the databases for his boss. Just looking at it gave him a headache and he sighed. He picked up a pen and began his work, trying to distract himself. He managed to work for an hour straight until his eyelids drooped.

He wasn't aware he had fallen asleep. So this nightmare was real. He was already running down the street, running, always running. He saw a child lying on the ground and they reached out to him, coughing, pleading. "Please, help."

He was so terrified that he barely looked at the child and just kept going. He knew it was selfish but could barely spare the thought. He now noticed the hundreds of bodies around him, crying and bleeding, trapped and scared. He was running alone. The fire died down and he stopped short at what was ahead of him. A great pile of bodies, strewn carelessly up on top of one another. The stench of rotting flesh reached his nose and he gagged, turning away from the sight.

But there were just more bodies. So many, stacked and sprawled, limbs bent in unnatural angles. Bodies burned, blackened, and sliced apart. The stench increased and he was now looking up at the colorless sky. He realized he was on the ground. No, he was lying on top of others. He was on one of those piles of countless dead people. And as a body was thrown on him, he realized he was dead too.

* * *

 **The truth comes out! Well, some of it anyways. Alfred is satisfied, and Arthur, well, he's not doing so good. Will Arthur get a therapist? Is he even going to make it through this nightmare? Questions to consider. Also, does the title make sense now? It has a double meaning, if you care to figure it out. As always, leave a review if you'd like! Until next time!**


	9. Therapy

Arthur awoke to a loud crack of thunder and fell out of his chair. He frantically felt the floor beneath him in a bout of paranoia. Laminate wood. Not bodies. He pulled in some breath and sat up with shaky arms. He could still smell the stench of rotting flesh from his nightmare. It made him nauseous so that he almost had to dry heave on the floor. Instead, he forced himself to stand up and stumbled to the door. He unlocked it and walked out, heading for the front door as fast as his shaky legs could carry him. He stepped outside and collapsed on the porch swing, breathing in fresh, clean, city air.

This wasn't normal. This had been happening much too often. Was it because Alfred kept bringing it up? Because it was on the news? Whatever the reason, he hated it. That had just been terrible, and wasn't even close to what really happened. Right? Did he remember a kid reaching out to him? Bodies on the ground? Is that why he took in Alfred so easily?

He really tried to block everything out, so some things were hazy. But the memories always kept coming back to haunt him. There definitely was a child he had avoided. And he was absolutely sure that child had died because no one helped them. The guilt would hang onto his conscience forever.

There was another crack of thunder, further away now, and he looked up and realized it was dark out, the stars twinkling in the sky. He remembered an old, old tale that each star was a person that had passed on, a guardian angel to a living person. It was a comforting tale to some people, but when you could have caused another star added to the sky, that wasn't comforting at all.

Of course, it wasn't true. Arthur had to reassure himself. He couldn't think about that, he had to remember. He had to realize that if someone died, it wouldn't have been his fault. Everyone was terrified, and human instinct says to save yourself before others. It is incredibly selfish, but true.

If he had helped that child, calling for help, it may have died anyways. They could have both died. But he was certain that caring for Alfred and not leaving him outside that day had saved the guilt from eating away at him. It was only one life, but it could be enough.

* * *

It was 3 am and Alfred was staring at a blank document on his computer screen. He was thinking, hard, of a way to get his dad to let him go see Matthew. He had to sort his thoughts out first.

"Bullet point," he said to the computer. It added a dot to the otherwise blank screen. "Dad is afraid to go to America." The words wrote across the screen. He set his elbows in front of him and cradled his chin in his hands. "Bullet point. Francis might not have a problem. Bullet point. Maybe bring up Matt to Francis instead. Bullet point. Then dad wouldn't even have to go. Bullet point. Plus we would get to go see some sights. Bullet point." He paused, trying to corral his different thoughts. "How long is the adoption process and do they have to be married and both be there? Reminder: Look up info first... End Speech Text."

He looked over the list he had of his thought process. It looked like he might actually be getting somewhere. By the next time he could call Matthew, he would have more ideas and options. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Save doc as _Matthew_." The page saved and he shut down the computer for the night. Reluctantly, he got up, and went to the bathroom.

When his brain was working more, he would see if the list made any sense and then add to it. He was excited to talk to Matthew again in a few days. But not nearly excited enough to stay up any longer. His brain was working on overload, so he just needed a nice, peaceful rest.

* * *

"I'm taking you somewhere," Francis announced the next morning.

Arthur looked at him over his cup of tea. "Where?"

"It's a surprise."

"I don't like surprises," Arthur muttered.

"I know, but too bad," Francis said, "We are leaving in 10 minutes. Alfred is going to a friend's house."

"I suppose nothing I say will change your mind," Arthur sighed and sipped his tea.

"You're right," Francis said and disappeared down the hall.

Arthur watched him go suspiciously and continued drinking his tea. What ever he had planned couldn't be too bad. Right?

Minutes later he was in the car, being driven to God-knows-where. Francis was still silent on the matter. Within another 15 minutes, they parked outside a large brown building.

"Is what we're doing illegal?" he asked Francis.

"No, it's perfectly legal," he laughed and got out. Arthur followed suit and they went inside. There was a receptionist in a waiting room with a few people. Francis told him to just go sit while he talked to the receptionist and he complied. He sat down and looked at some magazines on a small table next to him. Months old magazines and little pamphlets were spread out. He picked up a blue pamphlet and examined it. It was titled ' _How to tell if your teen is depressed_ '. He glanced down at the other pamphlets. They were all self help!

Before he could storm over to Francis and ask what the hell he was doing bringing him here, the man sat next to him with a clipboard and began speaking. "Arthur, you are not going to argue or yell. I brought you to see a therapist, and you are going to fill out this paperwork. This is to help you, so please don't put up a fight.

Arthur sat there, stunned, and sucked in a breath. "I don't need a bloody therapist," he whispered harshly, "I already told you this."

"I think otherwise," Francis said and set the paperwork in his lap, "Now you can cooperate, or I will leave you."

"Leave me?" Arthur asked.

"Oui. I will walk out, go to your house, and move all of my things out," Francis said with a hard look.

"You're... Serious?" Arthur asked in disbelief.

"Dead serious," Francis said. He held a pen out to him.

Arthur looked between the paper and Francis for a moment before taking the pen. He could suffer through an hour or two of bull crap if it meant Francis would stay. He filled out the information silently. He heard Francis pick up one of the magazines and flip through it. Some people were called down to see their own therapist, leaving Arthur and Francis alone as he completed the form.

"This is nonsense," he muttered at the papers, "What more do they want? My blood?"

"Just finish the papers," Francis said, sounding bored, and flipped a page in the magazine.

Arthur sighed and signed his name, the dated it. "I'm done," he said, shoving the clipboard and pen back at him.

"Merci," Francis said and walked back up to the front with them. Arthur sat back and noticed the magazine was open to a wedding dress page.

He smirked as Francis sat back down and picked up the magazine. "Going to wear a dress? You do have the long hair for it."

"Thank you, but no," he spoke and smiled, "You're going to be the one wearing the dress."

"Pardon?" Arthur said.

"I quite like this one. The crystals will bring out your eyes," Francis said and showed him one of the dresses on the page.

"I'm not wearing a bloody dress," he said and rolled his eyes. A lady showed up at the door and called them in, "And this is not over."

"Whatever you say," Francis said and they followed the lady down the hall.

"Right this way," she said and led them into her office. It was very simple with a roller chair at a desk off to the side, a coffee table with three chairs around it in the middle, filing cabinets in the back, and a plant in the corner. "Have a seat."

Arthur and Francis sat as she closed the door, "Thank you for coming, my name is Elizaveta Héderváry, but you may call me Eliza." She walked over to her desk and picked up some papers, then sat across from them. She slid them a paper with a pen on it across the table. "These meetings will be one hundred percent confidential. That means I will not disclose any information to the staff, other clients, friends, or the police. If you would each sign and date it, knowing full well that what is said here, will stay here."

Francis signed the paper first then after hesitating, so did Arthur. She took the paper back then pulled out what looked to be the papers he had completed in the waiting room. She briefly glanced over the papers and smiled. "Well, Mr. Kirkland, I'm glad to meet you, and your friend as well."

"Francis Bonnefoy, fiancé," Francis corrected.

"Oh my, when are you two getting married?" she gushed. Arthur rolled his eyes but preferred they talk about this rather than himself.

"October third," Francis said, "It's going to be an outdoor wedding."

"That sounds wonderful!" Eliza clapped her hands together, "I give you my best."

"Thank you," Francis nodded once.

"So, Arthur- is it alright if I call you that?" she asked. He shrugged and looked at her, feigning boredom. "Great. Look you aren't a kid, so I'm not going to sugarcoat things. I'm going to help you as best as I can, but first we have to address the issue. What are you here for?"

"To make him get off my back," Arthur muttered.

"What is he on your back about?"

"A bunch of nonsense," he said and adverted his eyes to the table.

"I can't help if you don't tell me," she said.

"I don't need help," he said stubbornly.

"The longer you wait, the longer you'll have to know me," she said patiently.

He glanced over at Francis, who was already looking at him, a sort of pleading in his eyes. Begrudgingly, he caved. "I have nightmares and flashbacks," he said, hearing his voice crack at the end.

"Of what?" Eliza prompted, taking notes.

"I don't want to talk about it," Arthur said.

"It's unhealthy to push your feelings back. You don't want these feelings to kill you," she said.

"...The war," he said after a minute, his eyes unfocused as the imagery fronted in his mind.

"Are you a veteran?" she asked. He shook his head and bit his lip, "Oh then could you elaborate?"

"I, um," he swallowed hard and looked at his hands. He had told Alfred a part of it, so he could do it again, "I was living in D.C when the bomb dropped... But I was far enough away that it didn't kill me. And, um, my house caught on fire, so I ran." He unconsciously touched his side as the images flashed in front of his eyes. The memories were there, always there, just like it had happened yesterday. "Some glass exploded and hit me in the side. I had to keep running though, to get away from the wreckage and fires..."

Francis put his arm around him for comfort and he was suddenly aware that he was shaking. It took a moment for him to calm down and look back at Eliza again.

"That's terrible," she said gently, "I'm so sorry. And you still have nightmares about this?"

He nodded. "Yes, and I tried my best to forget, repress the memories, and move on, but they keep showing up, clear as day."

He took a deep breath to steady himself. He still didn't think he needed help, but if this could get his nightmares to stop, then maybe he could give it a try. He would do this for his family.

* * *

 **Arthur is finally getting the help he needs, and hopefully what is happening to him will stop. So in the year 2031 there isn't flying cars but voice to text has made great advancements. Alfred's part was short but he'll be in it more next chapter (maybe).**

 **Which is actually what I want to talk about. I have to admit.. I haven't written all of chapter 10. I've been having really bad writer's block so I need to ask you, my dear readers, to please leave suggestions or what you think/ would like to see happen next in a review or PM me. If you want the update next week, I need some ideas! Please? I cherish all of you, so have a good day, until next time!**


	10. It's a Hard Knock Life

He lived on the corner of Steinhower street, in a decrepit boy's home. Or foster home or orphanage, some called it. Matthew called it his living hell.

"Give it back!" he whined and reached for his stuffed polar bear, Kumajeo, that was being tossed over his head. One boy caught it and taunted him, holding the animal above his head.

"Oh you want your little stuffed animal? Want a bottle with that too?" he snickered and tossed it back to the other boy.

"Maybe he wants some baby food too," the other boy suggested crudely as he caught the toy.

"Come on guys, please!" Matthew said, on the verge of tears.

"Maybe we should give the crybaby his toy back," the other boy laughed.

"Okay," the one boy said menacingly and gripped the stuffed body with both hands.

"No!" Matthew yelled, knowing his intentions to rip the bear, and lunged for it. He didn't know what over came him just then. Maybe it was living with cruel boys his whole life. Maybe it was because families never wanted to adopt the shy boy in the crowd. Maybe it was because he actually did have a chance with a real family. Whatever it was, Matthew snapped and reared back his fist. In the next moment, it connected with jaw.

Everything seemed to happen at once. The stuffed animal fell, the boy fell as well with a shocked yelp, the other boy ran away, and pain registered through Matthew's hand as the adrenaline was replaced with fear at getting a consequence.

Quickly, he picked up his bear and ran away. Tears stung his eyes as he ran, down the hall, and to the bathroom. He locked himself in a stall and fell against the door, trying not to hyperventilate.

He didn't think he had ever hit anybody. What were they going to do to him? Were they going to move him? He started to panic more. He would be with the really bad kids. He wouldn't last one day there with his passive demeanor. And Alfred! Alfred wouldn't be able to call! He wouldn't ever get a real family!

Matthew was wondering if he was about to have a panic attack when there was a voice on the other side of the door. "Matthew?"

He choked back a sob and wiped at his eyes. "W-Who is it?"

"Feliciano," the voice came from the other side, "Are you okay?"

"I-I don't think so," Matthew said. He knew Feli was a nice kid, but he didn't want to see anyone in the current state he was in.

"Could you come out? I have a safe place we can go to hide," Feli said.

Matthew took a deep breath and unlocked the door. Feli beckoned him. "Come on, let's go." Matthew followed him without a word, clutching onto his bear.

Feliciano snuck them down the hall and looked both ways before opening a hall door. Matthew looked inside and saw it just had towels and sheets and blankets. "We're gonna hide in here?"

Feli just shook his head, his odd little curl bouncing along with him. He jiggled open a small knob to the right of the closet and pushed on the wall. It swung open and he stepped inside the darkness. Matthew has no other choice but to close the closet door and follow him.

He briefly wondered if Feli was a murderer and had brought him here for some kind of virgin blood sacrifice, but then a light turned on, flooding the darkness. "Welcome to my special little hideout!"

Matthew looked around the room that was filled with old and broken things. There was a single hanging light with a chain in the middle of the room, which Matthew knew had to be over 40 years old. Everything in here seemed old, especially the chair Feliciano pulled out of the piles. "Is this some kind of storage place?"

Feliciano nodded and dragged the rickety chair next to one already out. "Sì, I found it when some of the meaner kids pushed me in the closet and locked it. It actually looks a lot better now, believe me. It used to be super dusty and this old stuff was everywhere. So I cleaned it all up and this is usually where I am in my free time so the big bullies don't get me. And no one knows about it other than me, so I won't get in trouble. But you won't tell, will you Matthew?"

Matthew didn't answer for a moment because he was wondering how Feli talked so much at once without passing out. "I-I won't tell," he promised.

"Good! Now come sit and tell me what happened and why you were crying," he sat down and patted the chair across from him.

Matthew stepped over and sat, still holding his bear close. "Okay, well, I left my bear, Kumidero, on my bed when we went to lunch. And when I went back, I noticed a couple guys had him and were laughing and when I asked for him back they played catch with him and teased me a-and I finally just... punched the one guy," he took and deep breath and tried to stay calm, "I don't want to get in trouble. I-I can't."

"I understand," Feli nodded and smiled brightly, "but at least they won't mess with you anymore and your bear is just fine. I don't think you'll get in much trouble if you tell them what happened."

"Okay," Matthew said and smoothed back Kuma's fur.

"But you should tell them now so the other boys won't twist the story," Feli said and stood up, pulling Matthew up with him, "I'll go with you."

Matthew nodded quietly and walked with Feli back into the hallway, hoping he would be in a real home soon with his real brother, so he wouldn't have to deal with these kids any longer.

* * *

"Hey, it's Matt," Matthew said happily when the phone rang. He had been waiting here for 10 minutes so no one would be on the line when Alfred called.

"Hey, bro," Alfred said through the phone. Alfred's voice was very loud compared to his own. He wondered if they looked as different as they sounded. "Look I came up with a really good idea."

"What is it?" he asked and leaned against the wall.

"So my dad has this weird personal thing where he really doesn't want to go to America. But I talked to the people at your place-"

"You did what?" Matthew interrupted harshly, "did you say my name?"

"No, I asked in general. Just hear me out," Alfred said and Matthew let him talk, "if I can convince my dad and Francis to see about you, and consider adopting you, then someone from your foster organization thing will fly out, check out the house and the family dynamic, and we'll try to convince them we're twins."

"Wow, that actually sounds pretty good."

"You sound surprised. But I'm not stupid, if that's what you thought."

"Oh, no! No, I didn't mean it like that," Matthew denied quickly, "Wait. You can do more than convince them. You have evidence. Your birth certificate. It would have the same day as mine."

"Oh yeah!" Alfred said, "Okay, so if that works out and everything goes well then they'll have you flown over for kind of a test run and they'll see how things are and then maybe they'll let you be adopted!"

"I can't wait!" Matthew said happily. He had dreamed of leaving this place and now he finally would. "I can't believe I might be living in England. That's a foreign place."

Alfred laughed. "You're the foreign place. You drive on the wrong side of the road and have McDonald's every other block. Not that I'm complaining about that part though."

Matthew smiled and shook his head. "I bet that's all you try to eat isn't it?"

"Guilty," Alfred laughed.

Matthew laughed this time, his brother's laughter infectious. "And we drive on the right side of the road. 'Cause you know the right side is the 'right' side."

"Bro, I don't know if I could handle those cheesy puns for the rest of my life."

"Well too bad," Matthew giggled. He checked his time limit and saw he only had a few minutes left. "So I hope you can convince your dad and Francis to adopt me. Fingers crossed."

"Yeah," Alfred said, "I'm doing a lot of research on this. We're going to make a great impression on the adoption people."

"Well now I'm worried," Matthew joked.

"Don't be. We totally got this," Alfred said confidently, "you just do your part on trying to survive until then."

Matthew nodded even though Alfred couldn't see. "I'm trying. I'm going to make it."

"Good," Alfred said.

"Yeah. Uh, I gotta go. I'm getting the evil eye," Matthew said and stood straighter.

"Okay. We'll talk next week," Alfred said, sounding a bit disappointed. Matthew knew Alfred felt like that because he felt the same way.

"Sounds like a plan. Bye," Matthew said. He listened to Alfred's farewell then hung up and happily went back to his room.

* * *

"Matthew! This is Ludwig, my newest friend," Feliciano said a few days later. Matthew looked up from his book and stood up from where he was sitting on the back porch steps.

He was prepared to greet this new person in a friendly manner, but when he got a look of the new guy, his nearly bolted. At first glance he looked like your average tough bully. He was tall with broad shoulders, blue eyes, and blonde, slicked back hair. His expression was neutral, so Matthew had no idea if the guy- Ludwig, his brain reminded him- was going to tease him or not.

"Hello," Matthew finally spoke quietly.

"Hello," Ludwig said. His voice was thick with a German accent, which gave Matthew more incentive to fear being beat up. Foreign kids often wanted to make a point that they weren't weak.

Feli, not being able to stay silent for more than five seconds, started speaking. "I was asked to show Ludwig around, so I wanted him to meet you since you're so nice! And he already saved me from a mean bully so I'm going to make sure he stays my close friend to protect me. Isn't that right, Ludwig?" He looked up at him and batted his eyelashes.

"Ja," Ludwig said simply and shrugged. Matthew could tell he was a man of few words.

"Ludwig told me he has an older brother and I think it's really cool that we all have older brothers not here, so I think we should share stories why!" Feliciano sat down and patted the spots next to him.

Matthew and Ludwig sat on the steps without complaint, and Matthew set his book next to him. So much for reading in peace.

"Okay, I'll start," Feli said, "My brother is 18 so he's allowed to live on his own, but I'm not allowed to live with him. I'm not exactly sure why, but that's what they said. So I have two more years until I'm an adult and then I can go live with Lovi. I've been in the system for six years so I'm sure I can make it. It really helps when Lovi calls but he has to work a lot and when he's not working, he's sleeping. We both love taking naps, so having to work and pay bills and stuff is really hard for him. I want to leave to be with him and help him but at least we get to talk sometimes. Oh, and then when I leave I'll get a job cleaning or something because I'm really good at housework."

Matthew listened to his story, trying to keep up with the high speed he was talking. If German was Ludwig's native language, Matthew was almost sure he hadn't kept up. He glanced over at the guy and saw he had been staring at Feli with apt attention.

"Okay, Ludwig, your turn!" Feli urged. Ludwig hesitated, bringing a short silence over them before he began speaking. He spoke slow and controlled, completely opposite of Feli.

"Alright. Well, just a few days ago, our father died. He was the only person we had left, and now all I have is my brother, Gilbert. He used to call our father "Old Fritz" to annoy him," Ludwig spoke as if he was trying not to cry. A small, sad smile traced his face, but then it fell back into a thin pressed line. "My brother is 19, and I could go live with him. Except... he's in the hospital. He's very sick and the doctors aren't sure what's wrong with him, so I'm very worried... I don't really want to talk about it right now."

He fell silent, and Matthew silently gave his condolences. He would give them out loud, but Feli was doing a well enough job on his own, with a lot of hand moment involved. After a minute, he gave Matthew the indication to start speaking.

"Okay, well, I've been in the system my entire 15 years of life. I never knew any of my family, and it seems as if I was destined to be an orphan from birth. I was almost adopted three times by different families, but complications came up and it never happened. That all happened before I was five, so I don't remember it. As I got older, people looked at me less and less, and I'm really shy so I tend to fade into the background. I've been moved place to place, but I've always stayed in the Virginia, Maryland, and D.C. Area. I'm bullied wherever I go, but I always tried to stay optimistic that maybe someone would come for me," Matthew talked and smiled slightly now as he thought of Alfred, "And then a letter showed up for me. It was from someone named Alfred Kirkland, who lives all the way in England. He said he thought we were brothers because we look almost exactly alike, and I sent a letter back, and he's been calling me. He's going to try and get me adopted soon, and this is the only thing I ever wanted."

"I couldn't imagine living in places like these my entire life," Ludwig said.

"It's really hard. But I know you both can do it," Matthew said.

"I'm counting down the days until I get to leave," Feli smiled optimistically.

"We all are," Ludwig said, "It's the only hope we have to hold on to."

As much as a depressing revelation that was, Matthew knew it was the truth. All they had was the days in their hands that they had to watch slowly deplete, until there were none left, and they were free.

* * *

 **Hello all! Thank you for waiting so patiently! This chapter focused on Matthew, and his perspective on all of this, with Feliciano and Ludwig to help. Now, I don't know much about boy's homes, so I'm just keeping it vague. So sorry if anything seems off about it.**

 **Also, I want to thank 'Guest' for this wonderful idea! Thank you so so much! It was mentioned to me before but you finally brought me to actually do it. Now this means that the next chapter will be up sometime when I get to writing it, and it will be back on the original characters. Maybe while you're waiting, leave a review? Until next time!**


	11. Things Are Looking Up

"This couldn't have happened at a worse time."

"Just hear me out," Alfred defended himself to his dad.

"Hear you out?" his dad scoffed, "I have enough problems without listening to your brilliant ideas."

"But-"

"No!" his dad snapped. Alfred quieted down and glared at the floor. This wasn't fair. He wouldn't even listen. After a few moments, his dad spoke again, more controlled. "I'm sorry, it's just... There's something I need to tell you... But it's hard for me to say."

"Okay... What?"

"I've been diagnosed with..." Arthur paused and forced the words out, "PTSD."

Alfred stared at his dad in shock. "But you weren't even in a war."

"That's what I said, too, but the term isn't exclusively for war veterans," he sighed and shook his head as if trying calm himself, "I haven't told you the whole story."

"Still?" Alfred gaped, "What else are you hiding? Don't you trust me?"

"I do, but it's been hard for me to talk about. But I suppose now is a good time as any," his dad said. He began telling of the parts of his past that he had always left out. Alfred listened, not even once interrupting. He was... Shocked, to say the least. It just all made sense now. The nightmares, spacing out, refusal to even talk about it. He couldn't believe he hadn't put it all together himself.

"You do... You do understand why I couldn't tell you, right?" his dad finished, trying to keep up his composure. Alfred nodded. He understood; he couldn't even be mad about it anymore. "Alright, good. Now I want to listen to you. I want to hear your idea about, er, Micheal."

"Matthew," Alfred corrected. He pushed the thoughts of his dad's confession to the back of his mind. If his dad was actually willing to listen then he couldn't be distracted by anything else. He told his dad about the brilliant idea on how to get Matthew here, making sure it sounded well thought out.

"So it's essentially a trial run," his dad mused after he finished.

"Yeah," Alfred agreed. His dad wasn't even denying him! This was a great start. "But I don't think we'll be canceling it at all."

"One more teenager can't be too bad. Especially if he's as well behaved like you said," he said thoughtfully, "And you really did your research on this. So I suppose, we can try it out."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Alfred yelled and crushed his dad in a hug. It was like an early Christmas sneak peek and he couldn't be more excited.

"You're welcome," his dad laughed, "Now get off me!"

Alfred laughed and let go of his dad. "When are you gonna call?"

"Well, I want to talk to Matthew first, and meet him, before I do. I also have to consult Francis about it."

"I'm sure he'll be really excited about it, too," Alfred said happily.

His dad smiled and nodded in agreement. "I'm sure he will."

They waited until Francis arrived home from work to talk it over with him. Alfred re-explained the plan to him, having high hopes. "And dad said he already agreed. I mean, if you found out you had a long- lost brother, you would want to meet him too."

Francis considered everything and nodded. "Well you did put a lot of thought into this. I think it would be good for you. So, why not?"

"Yes!" Alfred laughed, victorious, and beamed, "I didn't think you guys would agree so easily."

"You might be an idiot sometimes, but we do care about you," his dad said.

"What if the finalization papers for both kids went through on the same day?" Francis mused.

"That would be awesome!" Alfred said. That would take make being twins even better.

"That would be a nice coincidence. Either way, the way it looks now, Matthew will be able to attend our wedding, too," his dad said.

"They will be very adorable," Francis said.

"I'm not 'adorable'," Alfred scoffed, "I'm hot."

"Hot damn," his dad said quietly, then looked at Francis with an amused look. Francis burst out into laughter.

"I can't believe you right now," Francis laughed and leaned on him, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes.

Alfred stared at them blankly. "Did I miss something?"

"You're about 16 years late," his dad said, who was laughing too.

"It was a song called 'Uptown Funk'," Francis recalled and calmed down.

"Sounds lame," Alfred said.

"It wasn't then," Arthur said and smiled, "I miss the music of our day."

Francis nodded and looked at Alfred. "Have you seen your father in skinny jeans?" Alfred shook his head. Skinny jeans were so uncool. He guessed it was the style back in their day, but it sounded stupid.

"Oh dear Lord," his dad said, "You're talking about my scene kid phase, aren't you?"

"They're the best stories you've told me," Francis smiled.

"Shut it," his dad said and hit Francis' arm gently, "That's the past, no one needs to know about it."

"If you insist," Francis smiled and patted his knee endearingly, "Now how about we go out to eat?"

"Too lazy to cook?" his dad said.

"I have to save my energy for other activities," Francis said suggestively. His dad's face turned a light shade of red.

"Yeah, okay, let's leave!" Alfred interrupted loudly, springing off the couch to find his shoes. If they got into it, they would never leave.

* * *

Saturday seemed like it took way too long to arrive. He was practically bouncing in his seat as his phone rang, waiting for Matt to pick up. His dad and Francis were next to him, looking curious.

"Hey, Al," Matt said as he answered the call.

"Hey, Matt," Alfred beamed, "Guess what? My dad and Francis are here to talk to you. You're on speaker."

"Really?" Matthew gasped and talked a little bit louder, "It's a pleasure to finally speak to you both."

"And you too," his dad said.

"Ah, bonjour Mathieu," Francis said.

"Comment allez-vous?" Matthew asked in fluent French.

"Je vais bien, merci," Francis smiled happily, "Tu parle français?"

"Oui. Je me suis enseigné," Matthew said, sounding proud.

"Okay enough, we speak the Queen's English in this household," his dad said.

"Let's keep him," Francis said.

"He's not a pet, he's my brother," Alfred laughed, "Of course we're keeping him."

"Just not in a crate, please," Matthew said jokingly. Alfred laughed and listened as his dad asked Matthew some questions. Things about his personality, his likes and dislikes. Matthew answered dutifully, sounding only the slightest bit nervous.

"You sound like a very nice young man," his dad complimented at the end of his questioning.

"Oh, thank you!" Matthew said happily. To Alfred it almost seemed like he had just had a job interview and was given a job on the spot.

"I'm nice, too!" Alfred interjected, not one to be upstaged.

"No, you're not," his dad said, with a joking smile tracing his lips, "I should know; I raised you."

"Are you going to corrupt Matt, too?" Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Oh yes, I plan to absolutely suck the life out of him," his dad said and laughed.

"He will be like Cinderella," Francis said, continuing the joke.

"Oh my gosh, Matt, run," Alfred said.

"I think I'm as far away as I can get," Matthew giggled, "Oh, I have to go. Call me next week, okay?"

"Will do. Bye, bro." Alfred said.

"Au revoir," Francis said and his dad rolled his eyes. Alfred hung up after a few seconds and looked up to see his dad stand.

"I will not be able to stand two people speaking French all the time," he said.

"You know you like it," Francis smirked and winked, "It's not a secret that you know a fair amount yourself."

"Only so I can understand half of the nonsense you spew out," his dad insisted. Alfred knew where this was going and decided to take his leave before the show went past a PG-13 rating.

Once safely in his room, he kept thinking about the conversation. It had gone so well, much better than he had expected. He and his brother would be together in no time. It was only a matter of impressing the adoption inspector people.

And that couldn't be too hard. Right?

* * *

That night, Arthur was lying in bed with Francis. "You know what's interesting?" he said.

"What?" Francis asked and laid an arm over him to cuddle.

"How different Alfred and Matthew are. I'm still not completely convinced they're even remotely related."

"Hmm, what about comparing birth certificates? You could ask for Matthew's information," Francis suggested.

"There's a bit of a problem there," he sighed, "I do have a certificate for Alfred, but it's not accurate."

"I would think it is close enough," Francis said.

"He's been celebrating his birthday on the third. What if it's actually on the fourth?"

"I don't think it is, but even so, it's a little too late to change that," Francis consoled.

"You're right," Arthur said, "I just wish things were simpler. So much has been going on lately. I can barely wrap my head around it all."

Francis nodded and pressed a light kiss to his temple, "Just get some sleep and you can think it all over tomorrow when you aren't tired."

"Alright," Arthur relented and let Francis pull him closer, "Goodnight."

"Sweet dreams," Francis said.

Arthur closed his eyes and tried falling asleep, he really did, but a question just kept bugging him. "Francis?" he asked to the still air.

"Hmm?" Francis grunted sleepily from behind him.

"What if Matthew is a serial killer?"

There was no response for a moment before Francis gave a short breathy laugh. "You're interrupting my beauty sleep for a question like _that_?"

"Well, it's a possibility, isn't it? I mean, he does live in America, and they're a dangerous bunch."

"I think you're just tired," Francis said and buried his face in the crook of Arthur's neck, "Your imagination is getting the best of you. I'm sure he could not harm a fly, let alone murder you."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it..." Arthur sighed. His mind was working on overdrive. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. He just wasn't calm enough to sleep. "Francis?"

"What, _mon cher?_ " Francis replied with a hint of grumpiness.

"I want to have sex," Arthur stated and sat up. Francis opened his eyes, the light from the moon outside catching his expression of surprise.

"I thought we were trying to sleep tonight," he said.

"Yes, well, I changed my mind," Arthur said. He pushed back on the covers and straddled Francis. He leaned down to give the man a searing kiss, then slipped his lips down his cheek to whisper in his ear. "I want you to fuck me senseless. You know how I like it."

He could tell Francis was coming undone just by his words. And he was right when, just in a matter of moments, Francis was on top to fill in his dominate role. Clothes were thrown off haphazardly, soft touches and kisses exchanged generously. They tried to keep things quiet so Alfred wouldn't hear; the kid didn't need to be scarred for life.

At one point desire took over reason and Arthur let a loud moan slip. Francis made sure to cover his mouth in time but never stopped moving. They laughed a little at the mistake and held a kiss to make sure things stayed quiet.

After their activities, Arthur curled up to Francis again. The only difference this time was now they were naked and panting.

"I'm definitely tired now," Arthur breathed, his mind thankfully clear of his earlier thoughts.

"That means you're getting old," Francis chuckled.

"Oh be quiet, I'm trying to sleep now," Arthur said.

"Okay, goodnight," Francis said and pulled up the blankets to cover them more.

"I love you," Arthur said after a moment.

"I thought you were sleeping and I was being quiet," Francis said with amusement.

"You're supposed to say it back, not criticize me," Arthur rolled his eyes, but all in good humor.

"My bad," Francis atoned and gave him a light squeeze, "I love you."

Arthur smiled as he finally drifted off to sleep. And thankfully, tonight, there were no nightmares to keep him up.

* * *

 **Translations:**

 **Comment allez-vous?- How are you doing?**  
 **Je vais bien, merci. Tu parle français?- I'm fine, thank you. You speak French?**  
 **Oui. Je me suis enseigné.- Yes. I taught myself.**  
 **Au revoir.- Goodbye.**

 **Hello everyone! It's been a whole month, I know, and I'm so sorry. Writer's block, life, stress, everything is getting in the way. I've barely written anything this month. And then I start school in a week so.. yeah. I just finished this chapter half an hour ago honestly, so sorry for any mistakes and badly translated French (blame google). I hope you all enjoyed! I promise I will finish this, it will not go abandoned, I hate when other writers do that. So please leave a review and have a nice day!**


	12. Life Changing

"Okay boys, the foster home representative is coming very soon," Arthur said after getting off of the phone.

"Sweet," Alfred said, looking up from one of his many handheld games.

"So I need you to get dressed."

"I am dressed."

"No, put on a good shirt and brush your hair."

"Ugh fine," he groaned and trudged to his room.

"And you," Arthur turned to Francis.

"Yes?" Francis said with a sly smirk, like he thought Arthur was about to fall all over him. As if.

"Dress less.. Bright."

"What about your outfit?"

"There's nothing wrong with what I wear, as always. I'm a _gentleman,_ and dress as such."

"You keep telling yourself that," Alfred said as he appeared in the living room, "how's this?"

"You need to brush your hair."

"I did," he groaned.s

"Then what's this?" Arthur said and pulled at the boy's stubborn cowlick that seemed to defy all laws of gravity and hair gel.

"Hey!" Alfred said and pulled away, "don't you think I tried?"

"No, I don't. Go try again," he ordered.

"I'm gonna look like a little church boy!"

"That's what I want," he said and lightly pushed him towards the bathroom.

Arthur sighed and looked around the spotless house. If they were going to do this, they were going to make a good impression.

He tidied up the couch pillows and knelt down to straighten the already neat rug. His eye caught a picture of himself with Francis and Alfred. It had been their first time meeting, and Arthur had mediated it by taking them to a fair. 9-year-old Alfred had immediately latched onto Francis- especially when he won the boy an alien plush. The picture was all three of them- and the alien- standing in front of the Ferris wheel.

"That was a great day" Francis spoke, gently touching Arthur's back to bring him to the present.

"It was. I had fun," Arthur said and stood.

"Maybe we could take Matthew after he arrives," Francis suggested.

"That sounds like a good idea," Arthur mused, "and then leave Alfred there."

"I heard that!" Alfred shouted as he entered the living room again, his hair no different.

"Too bad for you that he knows his way home," Francis chuckled.

Arthur sighed and walked into the kitchen to take the kettle off the stove as it whistled.

Just then there was a knock on the door, and before he could even take a step toward it, Francis had already opened the door.

"Bonjour, belle," Francis said with a flourish, "please, come in."

Arthur rolled his eyes and hoped she didn't already dislike them.

The young lady smiled politely and stepped in. "My name is Lily, and I trust you know why I'm here."

"Of course. We're very excited to have you," Francis said and took her hand, kissing the top, "My name is Francis."

She blushed and looked over at Alfred, who was practically bouncing in excitement. "Hi, I'm Alfred! But you can call me anytime," he grinned cheekily.

Arthur resisted the urge to face palm and instead cleared his throat to gather her attention. "Arthur. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said and shook her hand.

"It's nice to meet you all. Looks like you have a lovely home," Lily said, looking around.

Arthur smiled in pride, "Thank you. Please, have a seat," he gestured to the loveseat, "would you like something to drink? I just brewed a fresh pot of tea."

"Tea would be nice," she said and sat, placing a folder on the coffee table.

Francis and Alfred sat on the couch as Arthur brought back cups for both of them. She thanked him and he sat on the other side of Francis.

"So, uh..." Lily stared at Alfred, "sorry this is so weird. You look almost exactly like Matthew."

"I told you guys we're brothers- and twins! That's, like, all the proof we need!" Alfred smiled.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Arthur said.

Lily opened her folder of papers and smiled, "Let's get started, then."

* * *

"I call this meeting of the Cool Kids to order!" Feli said and banged a book on the old wood table as if it was a gavel. "First thing's first, Matthew has some really good news!"

"I wouldn't say it's necessarily really good..." Matthew said, glancing around the hideout, "I think it's more scary, actually. A representative is visiting my brother in England, today. They have to make a good impression so I can go live with them and be adopted."

"I think that's exciting! They're going to do wonderful and you'll be out really soon!" Feli said enthusiastically.

"Yeah. I think they'll do fine too. Alfred told me that his dad likes everything to be neat and he's really polite."

"No need to be worried, then!" Feli said and looked at Ludwig, "and you, Mr. Grumpyface, need to stop worrying too."

"I can't..." Ludwig said, not meeting Feli's eyes, "my brother he's... dying."

"Oh no," Matthew whispered. He hadn't heard about Gilbert in a few days so this was news to him.

"The doctors will help him," Feli said, trying to stay positive.

"They can't. They're giving up. Gilbert can barely talk to me," Ludwig balled up his fists.

"But he's still so young, they can't just give u-"

Ludwig hit his fist on the table. "Enough! He's dying and there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it!" He yelled, holding back tears.

Feli jumped at the bang and looked like he was about to cry as well. "L-Luddy, I didn't mean to..." He sniffled and wiped at his eyes.

Ludwig stood and gently hugged Feli, all of his anger replaced with worry, "I'm sorry. It's just hard for me. I'm so sorry."

Matthew realized this was a private moment and left the room without them noticing. Poor Ludwig. His dad and his brother dying within months of each other... Matthew couldn't even begin to imagine how that felt.

A few hours later, a call came in from Alfred.

"So? How did it go?" Matthew asked, trying not to get his hopes up too high.

"I think it went really well. The girl that came here was really nice and cute. She interviewed us and we filled out some papers. Nothing too exciting," Alfred recalled.

"You sound like it was the most exciting thing ever," Matthew smiled.

"Okay, fine, it was pretty awesome. I just wish the girl was more into me."

"Oh no, you didn't hit on her, did you?" Matthew sighed.

"Only a little. I think maybe she's too old for me. Like 26 or something."

"I'm already regretting this," Matthew said jokingly.

"Regrets are for pussies," Alfred announced.

"A little louder and the staff might hear you," Matthew laughed.

"As long as I'm an ocean away, I don't care. No regrets!" Alfred laughed with him. "But anyways, Lily said she's gonna talk with someone over here who has to come talk to us a few more times to make sure we can adopt you and blah-dy blah blah. It's gonna be a couple months but it shouldn't be too hard, right?"

"I'm looking forward to it." Matthew said, already imaginging leaving this place, starting fresh.

"Oh and something really awesome is that my dad and Francis are getting married in like, a week. We hoped you could've been here but I guess the system is really slow."

"I think you mentioned that before. I hope it goes well. Eat some cake for me."

"I definitely will," Alfred promised.

"Oh- I have to go, it's time for dinner," Matthew said, "but we'll talk tomorrow okay?"

"I'll be here. Bye, bro," Alfred said. Matthew said bye and hurried to get in line for his meal. He sat at a table with Feli And Ludwig, both which seemed to be alright. Feli was talking excitedly as always. He was going to miss these guys, but he sure wouldn't miss everything else.

* * *

That next week was the wedding. It wasn't very big, just some family and friends. But it was beautiful in Arthur's eyes. Francis had set this all up with a wedding planner. There was an arch with flowers to walk under and to the gazebo where the priest stood, back-dropped by the calm ocean.

Arthur stood under the gazebo in his tuxedo as Francis walked down the aisle- Arthur didn't want the attention so Francis was playing the "girl" role- in his own tux, which was blue to match his eyes.

Arthur's breath caught as he watched Francis walk toward him. He realized this was it. No turning back. As Francis reached the gazebo, he took Arthur's hands in his own and stared lovingly into his eyes.

He forgot to breathe again. But this time it was the realization that this was the only thing he wanted. He was about to married to the man he loved more than anything (except Alfred, maybe).

He smiled widely as the priest began speaking. He could die at this very moment a happy man. They exchanged vows and rings where Francis nearly cried and Arthur actually did cry.

"I now pronounce you man and man. You may kiss the groom."

Arthur kissed Francis, feeling pure happiness and love. They held hands as they walked down the aisle. Everyone clapped except Alfred who was literally yelling, "You did it! Heck yea! Whooooo!"

The day went by too slow after that for Arthur's concern. They had the reception with food and cake. He smashed a slice of the cake into Francis' face who fretted over it in his hair, then kissed all over Arthur's face to get him messy as well. After that they cleaned the party up, dropped Alfred off at a friend's house, and headed home.

Arthur barely let Francis park the car before he leaned over and kissed him, much more feverishly than he had earlier, when everyone was watching. Finally, it was just them alone.

"Excited, are we?" Francis laughed as they pulled apart.

"Baise-moi," he spoke softly, looking lustfully at the man he craved.

Francis' eyes lit up then lowered suggestively, "Let's get to where there's more room."

They ran inside, shoving off their shoes that Arthur didnt stop to tidy. They barely made it to their room before Arthur was moaning under Francis' rough touches. He sprawled on the bed, shirt off, and Francis trailing kisses down his body. It was making him crazy. He wanted him, needed him, _now_.

"What did you say to me earlier?" Francis asked, stopping his kisses and staring down at his lover.

"Baise-moi," Arthur breathed, his heart beating in his ears and yearning for the man before him, "S'il te plaît."

Francis seemed to come undone by his own native language and complied, treating Arthur like he was the only one in the world.

They fell asleep just before dawn, and woke up past noon. Francis woke before Arthur, gently kissing him and tracing scars of another time. Arthur woke up quietly, folding himself into Francis. This was the safest he had felt in a long time. He never wanted to get up and face the world again. Everything was okay as long as he was in Francis' arms.

"Good morning," Francis said softly.

"Morning, love," Arthur murmured, not moving.

Francis chuckled. "You look like a baby kangaroo, hiding like that."

"I'm not hiding I'm just enjoying the peace," Arthur smiled.

"Would you like breakfast?" he looked at the alarm clock, "Or lunch? Or just coffee to wake up?" Francis offered.

"No, I just want to stay here with you," Arthur said. He realized he was being clingy but at this moment didn't care.

"Alfred has to come home at some point, you know. And then you'll have to get up."

"I don't want to parent today," Arthur groaned, "Can't he grow up already?"

"You would miss him too much."

"I hate when you're right," Arthur sighed and rolled onto his back to look at Francis. His eyes were soft and understanding.

"I know. I'll go make breakfast, come out when you're ready," Francis said and rolled out of bed, throwing some clothes on.

"Be there in a minute," Arthur said and stared at the ceiling. He turned the other way to stretch and met a mirror, reflecting his shoulders and up, with all his flaws. He sat up, letting the blanket fall into his lap, and stared at himself. He quickly looked away and went to dress. He wouldn't let his insecurities ruin his mood.

In the kitchen, Francis cooked a traditional breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast. The house was quiet other than the sizzling and quiet humming from Francis. How did he end up here? Why was he cooking for this broken man with scars and a son- two sons- who weren't even his? Why did he stay? Arthur rubbed his eyes to clear his mind. He knew why. Francis loved him for all his baggage; he said so yesterday.

"Dont stand there looking stupid. Get out plates and silverware," Francis said. Arthur nodded and got out what they needed. Francis served the food after a minute and they ate, conversing and joking.

They made their way to the couch and found the cooking channel. Arthur cuddled up to Francis, continuing the clingy behavior.

"Let me tell you a story," Francis said during a commercial. Arthur looked at Francis but he was looking towards the Tv. "Growing up, I lived next to an elderly couple. Easily in their 80s but in decent health. I often moved their lawn for them and brought in groceries. At first, it was at my parent's insistence to help, but eventually I got to know them," he paused and drew in a long breath, "One night the lady died in her sleep, and her husband woke up in the morning to her, just gone. He told me later that day after she was taken to the morgue. I asked him 'How did it feel when you realized?' He said it felt surreal, like she wasn't actually gone, because love never dies. Then I asked him what that meant and he said 'there's no right answer, but there is love everywhere. Love is a connection that brings people together and keeps them together. A connection that lasts forever, even if people don't.'"

He finally looked down to meet Arthur's eyes and smiled, "That's when I realized how much the world had to offer. How much love I had to give, starting with the man who was devastated but still had love. I love you Arthur. The love I have for you is more than anything I've ever felt. I love you, and Alfred, and all of your problems, and your fake sour attitude. Because love is eternal even if we aren't. And I'll love everything about you until the end."

At this point, Arthur was crying, again, burying his face in Francis' shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me that yesterday?" He asked, punching him lightly, "It would have been perfect."

"Because that's more personal. Those people helped make me what I am today. I may be a little out there with my feelings, but some things are only for you."

"I love you. God, I love you so much," Arthur said, looking at him again. Francis leaned in for a kiss. This was much different than last night, where everything was rough and lustful. Right now it was gentle and full of love. Arthur felt all of their love. He felt vulnerable yet safe. He felt so happy he could dance and sing in the streets. And it was all because of this one person who never gave up on him.

* * *

 **Hello everyone! I have returned from the dead after almost 2 years! I wrote most of this in literally one day in a spike of inspiration, so sorry if my writing seems different from the last chapters. If any of you from before my long hiatus are still here, I applaud you. If I were you I would hate me, but at least I didn't stop completely... Another chapter soon, I promise! Bye for now!**

 **P.s. I will be changing my name to 'Zeogravityalex' soon so sorry for the confusion!**


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